


Sunday Bloody Sunday

by soulfulsin



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: The others find Webby on the beach; she's soaked in blood and doesn't remember anything that happened before, save one thing. She killed someone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Learned my lesson from Bad Touch and decided to up their ages. If I continue this, there will be Deweblena. 
> 
> This is its own separate story on FF.net, so it might as well be on here too. I'm also taking this down off the one-shots fic; it doesn't fit with it anyway.
> 
> Catch me on fictionpress.com for original stories! Please?

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. As she lay on the beach, with the waves' susurrus nearby, she gripped the dagger, wet with blood. Overhead, seagulls called, and she ignored them. Her entire outfit was soaked in blood too. She ought to move. She couldn't bring herself to.

 

It wasn't just the horror of having killed someone, though she supposed that would've been enough on its own. It was just...everything. The world crashing down on her. She'd run to the beach to escape it all and had forgotten that Lena's old crib was around here. She didn't expect Lena or anyone else to show. What she'd done, she'd done without witnesses and certainly without the boys or Lena as a back-up.

 

She couldn't remember how long it'd been since she'd talked to them or checked in with them or her grandmother. Her phone was in her hip pocket, and she ignored it. It'd been buzzing on and off for a while now; time had no meaning. It had all blurred into one.

 

Footsteps on the sand prompted her to raise her head and then lower it again. She didn't have the emotional energy to deal with whatever was happening. Her fingers were still tight about the dagger, and she carved a hole in the sand with it. She didn't remember how she'd come to be here or the events leading up to the criminal's death. There were a lot of blanks in her memories, should she care to inspect them, and she didn't. Hell, she didn't even who she'd killed, only that she'd done it.

 

"Webby!"

 

That sounded like Lena's frantic cry. Webby rolled over onto her side. Ever since they'd restored her body four years ago, Lena had aged normally, like a person instead of a shadow. Then again, she was alive now, truly alive, as opposed to being attached to a person's life force as she'd been with Magica and Webby.

 

She didn't even know what she and Lena were right now. it was nebulous, much like her relationship with Dewey. She didn't want to think about anything right now, no matter its supposed importance. And in her pocket, her phone kept vibrating.

 

"Webby, answer me!"

 

She didn't want to. She'd rather float here, letting her mind and body drift. The waves came up to her feet now and then brushed against her legs. If she wasn't careful, she might be swept out to sea too. She didn't care.

 

Sand kicked up near her and she tilted her head. Lena was panting, having run some distance to reach her. Webby eyed her dispassionately. She knew how she looked or, rather, assumed she knew. She wasn't exactly a pleasant sight.

 

Lena cursed loudly upon spying her and then knelt beside her.

 

"Where have you been? Everyone's worried sick. You're...you're covered in blood."

 

"It's not mine," Webby mumbled, the first thing she'd said in hours. Her tongue felt thick in her beak.

 

"It's not..." Lena halted, brought up short. "What do you mean it's not yours?"

 

"I think I killed someone, but I don't remember exactly," Webby mumbled, turning over onto her side away from Lena. Lena placed a hand on her forehead and then withdrew it with a hiss.

 

"You're burning up. It's a good thing I came out here. The boys will be here soon. Stay there. Don't you even think of going anywhere."

 

She could barely think, let alone plot to escape. Head lolling against the sand again, she stared up at the cloudy sky. It looked like rain was on its way. Good. She hoped she was drenched. Maybe that would wash away all the blood.

 

Time passed, indeterminate, and she grew aware of the triplets, Lena, her grandmother, and Scrooge standing over her. Webby stared at them. She didn’t understand what was going on. Then again, her mind felt fried, so perhaps that was why she didn’t understand.

 

“Webby!” Mrs. Beakley gasped and Webby waved the dagger weakly.

 

“Hey, Granny,” she said.

 

“When she disappeared, she didn’t tell any of you where she was going?” Lena demanded.

 

“No,” Huey answered.

 

“Not a thing,” Louie added.

 

“I didn’t even know she was gone…” Dewey admitted sheepishly.

 

“Lass, what have you been doing?” Scrooge asked. “Are ye all right?”

 

“She claims the blood isn’t hers,” Lena said. “I don’t know whose it is.”

 

“I killed someone. It’s their blood,” Webby said, still immobile. “I don’t remember who I killed. I don’t remember anything, only that I did it.”

 

She was mumbling into the sand.

 

“If she’s covered in blood and she’s killed someone, that means there’s a dead body around Duckburg…” Louie said, looking disturbed.

 

“Friend or foe, Webby?” Scrooge asked gravely.

 

“Foe, I think,” Webby said. “I don’t remember.”

 

She clenched her eyes shut. Perhaps if she fell asleep, she’d wake up and this would all make sense. Or it’d all go away. Either one sounded appealing.

 

Lena sat beside her and while Webby wanted to derive comfort from her proximity, she couldn’t. She felt dull and uninspired. Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat and hoisted Webby to her feet. As Webby wasn’t assisting her, she nearly fell back over. Dewey and Mrs. Beakley had to help Webby find her footing.

 

“How do you not remember killing someone?” Louie muttered and she ignored him. She felt weak, woozy, and entirely too unsteady on her feet for her comfort. If it hadn’t been for Dewey and her grandmother, she would have fallen back down.

 

“Mental block,” Mrs. Beakley responded. “Her mind is shielding itself.”

 

Her perceptions grew hazy again as they brought her back to the manor. It was within walking distance of the beach and yet, she was having difficulties moving. She thought she might be going into shock. Considering what had just happened, that was probably to be expected. It didn’t make it any less irritating.

 

Once they had brought her back to her room, the adults left to confer. The triplets and Lena surrounded her. Lena lived here anyway, so she supposed she could just be stopping by. Distantly, she knew that wasn’t right, but she was having a hard time putting pieces together. Her mind just did not want to function right now.

 

“She should probably take a shower and change,” Huey commented and shuddered. “She’s getting blood all over the sheets.”

 

“Webs?” Dewey said, putting a hand on her forehead as Lena had done. “What’s going on?”

 

She giggled, which she knew wasn’t the proper reaction and which she knew meant she was going deeper into shock. She couldn’t help herself. For some reason, the whole situation struck her as funny. Soon, she was balled over, giggling insanely and unable to catch her breath. The others exchanged alarmed looks.

 

“Uncle Scrooge is going to have to call a doctor,” Louie said with a grimace. “C’mon, Webs, breathe.”

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Dewey asked.

 

“She’s going into shock,” Huey answered.

 

Shock. “Shock” was a funny word. She laughed harder. If anything, the others looked more concerned than before. She didn’t understand why. They were piling sheets and blankets on her; she didn’t think she was the one bleeding, though. She didn’t remember being hurt, but then again, her memory was faulty, so perhaps she wasn’t the best judge. After all, if she couldn’t remember who she’d killed or when, it was unlikely she’d recall an injury.

 

Lena cursed, grabbing Webby’s hand. She tried to wrench her fingers off the dagger, but Webby wouldn’t oblige her. “Why does she have an iron grip on this thing?”

 

“I don’t know, but is it making anyone else uneasy?” Louie asked. He sat on Webby’s other side. “Webs. Webs. Listen to me. I don’t know what happened, but you’re not there anymore, okay? So just put the dagger down like a normal person and don’t stab anyone.”

 

“Why would I stab you?” she asked, cocking her head at him. Her eyes were fever bright.

 

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I also don’t know what’s going on, so I can’t tell you either way.”

 

“There has to be a way to get this away from her without her stabbing me with it,” Lena grumbled.

 

“Webby, we’re not going to hurt you, so if you could put the dagger down, I’d really appreciate it,” Dewey said. Webby’s eyelids grew heavy; conversely, she tightened her grip on the dagger’s pommel until it dug into her palm. It was oddly reassuring.

 

“Can’t,” she said, though she wasn’t sure her ‘can’t’ was really ‘won’t’ in disguise.

 

“What do we do now?” Dewey hissed.

 

“Beats me,” Louie said. “I don’t want to get too close to her with that thing.”

 

“I’m not going to stab anyone,” she snapped, irritation seeping in beyond her irrational mirth. She straightened up in bed and pressed a hand to her side. She was bleeding. Oh. Maybe that explained it. Some of the blood soaking her clothing was hers, then.

 

That didn’t make her feel much better.

 

In the end, though, the triplets and Lena got what she wanted. She relinquished her grip on the knife...right about the time she passed out on the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unrelated to my other fics, so Steelbeak isn't Webby's father here. Also, I wanted to cleave more closely to the show's canon for this fic. (Della might appear as a side character, on that note, dunno yet).

Between herself and Mrs. Beakley, they managed to wrestle Webby out of her clothes long enough to see the deep gash in her side, clean it out, and bandage it. Lena had politely looked away when Mrs. Beakley changed Webby; being around Webby had always made her heart skip beats and now was no different. It'd been five years. You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now, but no. Webby was fifteen, Lena was sixteen, and it was and had been painfully obvious for a long time that Lena had a hopeless crush on her. It was obvious, of course, to everyone but Webby. And Dewey, for that matter, who also harbored a hopeless crush on Webby.

In another situation, it might be funny that Webby was unknowingly in a love triangle. Right now, Lena couldn't focus on anything besides the doctor Scrooge had called as the doctor examined Webby's side and stitched it. Mrs. Beakley's treatment had been suitable for the time being, but they'd wanted a professional on the scene.

When he finished, Lena propped her head up on her hands and sighed. Dewey sat beside her and they both stared at Webby, laid out and still unconscious. The doctor had said she had lost a lot of blood and if she didn't come to soon, that they should take her to the hospital. For now, the doctor would wait and see how Webby fared. He was speaking with Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley; Huey and Louie sat opposite Lena and Dewey and their gazes were all upon Webby.

It might've been self-defense. The problem was that she just didn't know and the only other potential witness was probably dead. Lena wasn't surprised that Webby had killed someone; she would have been shocked if it had been premeditated, but in the heat of the moment? Webby was trained for this. Mrs. Beakley had clearly thought this might be an eventuality.

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Dewey asked, breaking the silence. He looked as anxious as Lena felt.

"Whether to tell the police, maybe?" Huey suggested and Lena glowered at him.

"Of course they're not going to tell the police," she snapped, more venom than she'd intended. "We don't want Webby going to jail."

"She wouldn't if it was self-defense," Dewey interrupted.

Their gazes fell upon Webby again and Dewey took her hand and interlaced their fingers. Webby still hadn't roused and Lena feared she'd need assistance to wake. She bit the inside of her cheek and came to a decision. Leaning forward, she brushed her beak against Webby's cheek and rose. She was going to have a talk with the adults and see whether they really were considering telling the police. They had better not be.

"She hasn't woken, has she?" Scrooge burst out and Lena shook her head. She folded her arms across her chest and regarded them stoically, giving nothing away. If they thought they were going to take Webby away from her, then they had another thing coming.

"She may sleep for a while," the doctor warned. "However, if she doesn't rouse by tomorrow, I would consider bringing to the ER."

"No!" Lena blurted. "She'll wake before then. She has to."

"Lass, we're not going to turn her into the police and arrest her for a scrape," Scrooge said, divining what was bothering Lena. "Do you really think we'd do that to a family member?"

The doctor looked confused and cleared his throat, perhaps about to interject, when Mrs. Beakley ran roughshod over him. Her eyes narrowed at Scrooge, yet when she glanced at Lena, her gaze was compassionate. Though she hadn't said as much, Lena knew that Mrs. Beakley knew Lena had a thing for Webby. She'd changed her opinion on her over the years and after seeing the damage Magica had wreaked on her so-called "niece".

"Anyway," Mrs. Beakley said, glaring at Scrooge, "we'll take good care of her. We'll let you know if there's anything else."

She said this last in a tone of dismissal and perhaps it was her severe manner or simply her force of personality, but the doctor retreated a step. Lena smirked. As much as she and Mrs. Beakley came to loggerheads, she loved seeing her intimidate people. She was pretty badass for an old lady. Lena could see where Webby got it from.

"Er, no, there's nothing else," the doctor hastened to reply. "I'll send you my bill, Mr. McDuck."

Scrooge inclined his head and the doctor scurried away. Lena rolled her eyes. Mrs. Beakley hadn't even slammed him into a wall. She didn't know what his problem was. For all he knew, she was a perfectly innocent old lady...that happened to be a total badass. Lena wished her "relative" was that cool instead of being an evil, bitchy sorceress.

"We're not going to tell the police about what happened," Scrooge said once the doctor was out of earshot. He'd resembled a toy dog, albeit a Dog rather than a lowercase dog. It was still amusing to watch him dart away with his tail between his legs.

"We will handle this matter on our own," Mrs. Beakley added. "There's no need to bring in the police."

Lena nodded and turned back toward Webby's room. Mrs. Beakley reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Even though it'd been years since she'd been abused by magic and years since she'd gotten her own body, the sudden touch still made her flinch. Webby and the boys could touch her without that happening, but the adults were another matter. She still unconsciously anticipated abuse from an adult.

"It'll be okay, Lena," Mrs. Beakley soothed. Lena's beak quirked into a not quite smile.

"Sure," she said and shrugged like it didn't bother her. "It'll be fine."

Now, if she could say it and believe it, that was another matter entirely. She returned to Webby's bedroom to find Huey leafing through his JWG for the umpteenth time (how the kid hadn't memorized it, she didn't know), Dewey attempting to rouse Webby by rambling at her, and Louie staring at his phone. In other words, she'd pretty much rejoined them as she'd left them. They were all so predictable.

Scrooge and Beakley didn't accompany her; perhaps they were ensuring that loose beaks didn't sink ships. She took her spot at the head of Webby's bed and took her hand. She wondered whether Webby was dreaming and if so, what it was about. It seemed almost absurd that Webby had no idea she cared so much for her. Webby was the duck equivalent of a tree stump when it came to romance.

"Any sign she's going to wake?" she asked the others and they shook their heads, Huey and Louie without even looking up. Lena didn't know what Huey was looking for in the JWG. This exact situation seemed a little too oddly specific for a JWG article. Then again, that had never stopped Huey before. He acted like the JWG was his Bible.

"We shouldn't have let her go out on her own," Dewey said, frustrated. "If one of us had been with her, this wouldn't have happened."

"Or one of us could've been killed instead," Lena pointed out.

"We don't know that," Huey retorted.

"We don't know that it's not true, either," Lena shot back.

"Absence of proof is not proof," Huey snapped.

Dewey kissed Webby's free hand. "I just wish I knew what happened."

"All of us would like the answer to that, blue," Lena said. Affection for Webby surged in Lena's chest and she had to turn her head, lest it be revealed to the others. Then again, other than Dewey, they already knew. She didn't know who she thought she was fooling.

"How long do you think she'll stay out?" Dewey asked.

"There's no way of knowing for sure," Huey said. "It depends on how much blood she lost, the level of shock she's in, her determination to wake up…"

"She doesn't spend that much time sleeping," Lena observed. They shouldn't have to wait too long, right? She chewed the inside of her cheek. It didn't seem like Webby had lost that much blood, but what if they were wrong? No one besides Webby had any idea what had happened.

They waited for hours until, eventually, almost all of them dropped off. Soon, it was a competition between Dewey and Lena to see who would remain awake the longest. Lena had experience with sleep deprivation thanks to Magica. Yet another wonderful thing her "aunt" had done to her. Lena had no idea where she'd gone and hoped she'd conveniently ended up cooked alive at Mount Vesuvius. One could dream.

Her head drooped and she jerked back awake. She did not want to fall asleep, not if there was a chance Webby might rouse while she was unconscious. Webby startled but didn't regain consciousness. Lena sighed.

"How about I'll take the first watch and you'll take the second?" Dewey suggested. "I'll wake you if she wakes up."

Lena stared. "I'll take first watch. You go to sleep."

Dewey didn't fight her, which said volumes about his current fatigue. He curled up on Webby's bed and fell fast asleep. Lena clasped Webby's hand in hers.

"C'mon, Webs. Don't leave us hanging," she whispered.

* * *

Webby awoke coughing; a lingering memory of a knife swooping in and opening up her side fading as she roused. She couldn't remember who wielded it or what had happened. As soon as her eyes opened, the memory flickered away. She struggled to sit upright and felt an odd weight on her chest. Frowning, she pushed at it, but it was heavy and warm. She glanced down.

Dewey had flung himself across her chest and was fast asleep. She smiled.

"He's a terrible guard," Lena said and Webby turned her head. Her best friend looked wan and her expression was pinched. Not wanting to dislodge and wake Dewey, Webby laid back down.

"He was supposed to take the second watch and I couldn't wake him up," Lena explained.

"How long have you all been here?" Webby asked, glancing around her. Huey and Louie were sprawled out on chairs and fast asleep too. While Lena looked exhausted, she hadn't passed out.

"Since you passed out."

As she had no recollection of that nor of being bathed and changed, she let that slide. Her gaze settled on Lena.

"You don't remember anything, do you, pink?"

Webby shook her head. "Sorry."

"I figured it wouldn't be that easy. Scrooge is launching an investigation right now, but he's trying to do it without alerting the police."

"Why wouldn't he...oh, right." Webby blushed. She blamed her grogginess for that stupid question. Lying down was getting uncomfortable and she pushed Dewey off her to sit up. Dewey stirred and then went right back to sleep.

"Boys," Lena snorted.

The air felt charged with something and Webby didn't know what to make of it. Lena turned her head, sudden shy, which was unlike her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask her what was going on when Dewey slid off the bed and fell onto the floor. That, unlike the gentle shove, jolted him awake.

"What's going on?" he demanded, looking around.

"You fell on the floor," Lena retorted, rolling her eyes. "You also fell asleep on the job. Good job."

"I didn't mean to," Dewey huffed. He glanced over at Webby. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," she said, suddenly uncertain whether being conscious was a good thing. The tension remained in the room and somehow seemed thicker now; it was as if Dewey had made it worse. What weren't they telling her? She glanced between the two.

"What?"

"We know you killed the guy in self-defense," Dewey said, though Webby sensed they weren't entirely certain about that. "But where were you? And why were you there?"

"I don't remember," she said. She didn't remember them finding her, either, just a vague impression of the beach. "My mind may be suppressing it. I've read all about it. It's a way for the mind to recover from shock."

"Yeah, that was shocking all right," Lena muttered.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Dewey pressed.

She cast her mind back. "Breakfast...lunch...and then...nothing. A big fat blank."

"We had lunch together," Lena said, frowning. "And then you dashed off, saying you had something to do. No one knew where you were."

The DPD would probably be able to help ferret this out. Unfortunately, if they started looking, she'd end up in trouble. She didn't want to contemplate what could happen after that, though she could well imagine it. Shuddering, she rubbed her arms, where her flesh had pimpled.

"Maybe your phone has a clue," Dewey suggested. Webby glanced around for her phone and Lena handed it to her.

"We couldn't unlock it," Lena said and scoffed. "Your security code was obvious, but then it asked for a spoken password."

"Oh, that," Webby said, taking the phone off Lena's hands. "It's stupid. It's Number One Adventurer."

"You're right," Lena snorted. "That is stupid."

"It shouldn't have kicked in, the secondary security," Webby said. She looked at her phone and then traced a hairline crack in the screen protector. "This wasn't broken like this before."

She stared at her now unlocked phone like it was a foreign object and poked at the text messages. Everything after two p.m. was missing. Her conversations had ended abruptly and she stared at the voicemails. Almost all of them were from the boys or Lena, but the last one was from an unknown number. With trepidation, she pushed play.

"Hello, Webbigail," an unfamiliar male voice intoned. Something about it sent shivers down her spine and she glanced at Dewey and Lena. Huey was stirring, though Webby knew that nothing short of a hurricane would stir Louie.

"If you're listening to this, then phase two is about to start."

Webby's frown deepened and she flicked away the voicemail to look at her background. It'd been her, Lena, and Dewey from a couple of nights ago, at a carnival. She remembered because Dewey had his beak up against her cheek and Lena looked like she was leaning in to kiss her. They'd been in a photo booth, but the camera hadn't worked, so they'd improvised with Webby's phone instead.

It wasn't that now. It was an acronym that she'd only seen once, on an "Agent 22 and McDuck" adventure.

FOWL.

And underneath the logo were the words, "Stage 2."

The voicemail resumed, which startled her. It had done so on its own.

"By now, I'm sure you've had the time to realize that things are not quite as they seem," the male voice continued. Webby mentally rummaged through her FOWL knowledge to determine who this might be. It wasn't the cocky, self-assured and Brooklyn sounding Steelbeak. It wasn't Taurus Bulba, the idea of whom frightened her. But of the named FOWL agents, none of them seemed to fit.

"I look forward to seeing how well you perform. After all, your parents didn't fare nearly as well."

It felt like a leaden ball had dropped into her stomach. She never spoke about her parents and the alarm reflected in Dewey's, Lena's, and Huey's faces reflected that. Dewey and Lena moved forward in unison to lay reassuring hands on her, but the chill had gone too deep. She could barely feel them.

"Until we meet again, Webbigail."

The voicemail ended abruptly and Webby searched through her phone for any clues as to who it might've been or whether they'd touched anything else. All of her photos were gone. In their place was a single picture, one she didn't recognize. She screamed, flinging the phone.

"Woah, woah. What's wrong?" Dewey asked. "Webby, what's going on?"

Lena swiped the phone before Dewey could and her jaw dropped. "Are these your parents?"

"They were," Webby said in a quiet voice, shaking uncontrollably.

"Lemme see that," Dewey said, reaching for the phone. Lena held it out of his grasp. "Why won't you let me see it?"

"Just let him," Webby said dully. "This situation can't possibly get any worse."

Dewey gawked at the phone and Webby knew exactly what he'd see. It was a picture of her parents lying on the ground with their throats slit, bleeding out. Only someone who had seen them before their deaths and possibly brought them about would have such a picture. This was the person her grandmother had spent her entire life trying to shield Webby from and somehow, he had found her.

The person that had killed her parents.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the name change for Mrs. Beakley’s daughter. I wanted to further distinguish between this series and Night of the Hunter’s universe.
> 
> I have the fourth chapter of this partially written. My brain is not functioning well tonight, hence it'll remain half-done for another day. 
> 
> Deweblena makes its appearance.

Webby stared at the phone like it was poisonous. Lena couldn’t get the image out of her head; Webby never spoke about her parents if she could help it. Even when she’d been helping the triplets find out about their mother, she’d never mentioned hers. And after Della had returned to Earth, she’d still not ventured that information. Lena didn’t pry, so she hadn’t asked. She wasn’t sure if the triplets had and gotten their heads bitten off or if they’d wisely refrained. Now it was too late. The can of worms was open and writhing between them.  
  
“You never told us what happened to your parents,” Dewey accused.  
  
“My parents were spies,” Webby said, biting off each word as if it pained her. “They were found, their identities were discovered, and my grandmother’s along with theirs. They died and my granny moved us to McDuck Manor.”  
  
Lena knew that wasn’t the whole story, but Webby’s tone made it clear she wasn’t up for question and answer. Webby had pretended for the entire time Lena had known her that the triplets, Mrs. Beakley, Della, Donald, and Scrooge were her family and Lena had said nothing. Now she knew why Webby hadn’t mentioned them.  
  
“They died when I was five,” Webby continued. “It’s been ten years. Why--?”  
  
She cut herself off, shaking her head. Lena’s throat was tight in sympathy.  
  
“Why now?” Huey echoed. “Why mention it now, after all these years?”  
  
“My mom was around my age when she started taking on junior SHUSH missions. So I guess…” Webby trailed off, unwilling or unable to continue. Her beak was clenched shut tightly and when Lena reached out to put an arm about her, Webby jerked away. That hurt far more than Lena would have thought and Dewey frowned, touching Lena’s hand. Confused, Lena looked at him.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dewey said, but she wasn’t sure whether he meant her or Webby.  
  
“You don’t really think this guy’s known where you were for ten years and did nothing, do you?” Huey asked. Louie startled awake, glancing around him as if wondering where he was and how he’d gotten there. He smiled vacuously toward Webby.  
  
“Hey, you’re awake,” he said. “How long has that been going on?”  
  
Webby ignored him for the time being to answer Huey.  
  
“I don’t know,” Webby admitted. “We need to talk to Granny.”  
  
“If your grandmother doesn’t freak out about this,” Dewey said.  
  
“Freak out about what? What did I miss?” Louie asked.  
  
Webby had no desire to touch her phone; that much was apparent. Dewey retrieved it and showed Louie the picture. Louie winced, glancing from it to Webby and back again. He reached out for her and then seemed to think better of it, keeping his hands to himself. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. If Webby wasn’t letting Lena touch her, she doubted she’d make an exception for Louie. At least, she hoped not.  
  
“Holy shit,” Louie breathed. “Webs, is this why--”  
  
“Yes,” Webby spat. She sighed. “Look, I don’t want to get into it, okay?”  
  
“But this is a big deal,” Louie protested. “Why didn’t you say anything years ago?”  
  
Webby gave Louie a look and Louie grimaced.  
  
“Okay, never mind. Got it,” he said, wisely silencing.  
  
“This guy came into my life, hacked my phone, erased all my pictures, broke the screen protector, got me to kill someone, and called me to tell me that this wasn’t over,” Webby said, bringing Louie up to speed. “I know Granny could handle it--but I don’t think he wants her. He wants me, maybe to finish what he started.”  
  
She shivered and Lena and Dewey hugged her. Unfortunately, Webby wasn’t one for showing vulnerability, at least not in front of a crowd, and Lena felt the moment that her armor fell back into place. She knew that Webby trusted them, but she didn’t want to look weak in front of anyone, even her family and friends.  
  
“Are you going to be okay to leave the bed?” Dewey asked and Webby shot him a withering look.  
  
“Is that a challenge?” she threw back at him.  
  
The others released her and she sprang to her feet with a wince. “Okay, that hurt a little more than I’d expected.”  
  
“You might not want to spring into action any more than necessary,” Huey warned. “You could agitate the stitches.”  
  
“I was stabbed that deeply?” Webby said, lifting her shirt to examine her side. Stitches ran up from just under her breasts down to her hip, almost. Lena’s eyes widened. Holy crap. Someone had shanked her. After the shock wore off, anger seeped in. Someone had dared hurt her Webby.  
  
“It’s kind of a miracle you made it to the beach before you bled too much more,” Huey said, flinching. “You could’ve bled out.”  
  
“This guy is serious,” Dewey said. “We need to tell the adults.”  
  
Webby grimaced. “Granny will probably put me under lockdown.”  
  
“And would that be such a bad thing?” Louie retorted. “I mean, you went out and then that happened.”  
  
“We’re not any safer in McDuck Manor than we are outside of it,” Webby retorted. “Black Heron broke into the manor. Your mom hopped the gates years ago. There are ways inside if you really want in.”  
  
“Okay, but no one’s broken in in the last few years,” Huey argued. “You might be safer here.”  
  
“Might be,” she retorted. “That’s not good enough.”  
  
“Well, where’s SHUSH’s HQ?” Dewey asked. “We could go there.”  
  
“Beats me,” Webby said. She was still shaken from the picture. “Granny would know...I think. If they haven’t moved since her identity as a secret agent was compromised.”  
  
This time moving more gingerly, she headed for the door with the others behind her. The sun streamed in through the window and Lena scoffed. It was far too chipper a day for her already and it had only just begun. It was odd that Mrs. Beakley hadn’t summoned them for breakfast, though.  
  
They soon discovered why. Mrs. Beakley was staring at a laptop with her brow furrowed. From the pantry, they heard Donald squawking--he must’ve locked himself in again. Lena rolled her eyes and went to hunt down Pop-Tarts. Maybe if they were lucky, there’d be a few wild ones about she could snag. She and Louie went straight for the food.  
  
“This guy from FOWL is toying with her,” Louie said as Lena searched the cupboards. “He knows that he’s getting to her and he’s exploiting that.”  
  
“But how did he get that picture?” Lena asked, finding blueberry frosted tarts and holding out the box for him once she’d pilfered a pouch. He helped himself and, without looking for plates or glasses, they headed back into the dining room. Mrs. Beakley was trying her utmost to ignore Webby for the time being, as she was researching, but when Webby held up the phone like a cursed object, Mrs. Beakley finally tore her gaze away.  
  
“What is it...oh.” Mrs. Beakley sounded like she’d been sucker-punched. Her eyes widened and her beak quivered.  
  
“How did you get this?” Mrs. Beakley inquired, breathless.  
  
“It’s all that’s left on my phone,” Webby answered. Louie and Lena sat down while Dewey and Huey remained near Webby. Lena, at least, had taken a seat near Webs. Webby wasn’t looking at them, though. Her gaze was riveted to the picture again and her beak quivered as well, with tears burning the corners of her eyes.  
  
“Everyone, out,” Mrs. Beakley ordered. “Except you, Webby.”  
  
“I’m not leaving her,” Lena said firmly.  
  
“And if she isn’t, then neither am I,” Dewey added.  
  
“This isn’t up for discussion,” Mrs. Beakley snapped. “Out.”  
  
“No,” Lena said. She was tired, both from staying up late and being shunted away as though she weren’t part of the family. She’d fought for her place here and she had no intention of leaving Webby when the younger girl needed her. Dewey clearly felt the same way.  
  
Lena folded her arms across her chest and glared at Mrs. Beakley head-on. She had a flashback of doing something similar years ago, back with the Terra-Firmians. Things, however, had shifted between them since then. She’d thought, perhaps mistakenly, that Mrs. B might know where she was coming from and why she was so protective over Webby.  
  
“How much have you told them about your parents?” Mrs. Beakley asked Webby.  
  
“I already told them enough. It’s fine, let them hear it,” Webby said and slumped into a chair. Despite having been unconscious since yesterday, she looked like she needed another good, long rest. Lena interlaced their fingers again and felt Webby’s pulse fluttering against her palm like a captive butterfly. She was struck, as she often was, by the desire to kiss her. And, as always, she suppressed it.  
  
Mrs. Beakley looked as though she wanted to argue the point, but her lack of sleep coupled with Webby’s unusual request to speak about her parents overrode that. With a grimace, she commenced.  
  
“My daughter, Webby’s mother, was a trained agent under SHUSH. She met and fell in love with Webby’s father during one of her missions. They’d had several close encounters prior to Webby’s hatching, but nothing serious. However, the close calls kept coming and, when Webby was five, her parents didn’t come home.”  
  
Webby’s jaw was clenched tightly and Lena squeezed her hand. Webby squeezed back, hard enough to hurt, but Lena didn’t let go. She could feel tension wrack the younger girl.  
  
“I later learned that my cover had been blown, as had theirs. As a precautionary measure, I was extracted from my current home, Webby was placed in my care, and we entered McDuck Manor to live. That was ten years ago. Though we had never seen her parents’ bodies, they had been presumed dead. And now, I suppose…”  
  
Mrs. Beakley swallowed hard and her eyes shone with tears. “Now we know they truly are gone.”  
  
She sighed and then glanced at Webby. “But you are, under no condition, permitted to run off after this FOWL agent. Do you hear me?”  
  
“I’m not staying here,” Webby said. “It’s not safe and neither’s Duckburg. I’m sorry, Granny, but you can’t protect me forever.”  
  
She sounded sorry, too, for what it was worth.  
  
Mrs. Beakley looked on the verge of debating that, but perhaps common sense intervened. She sighed and her gaze landed on Lena. Lena stiffened, not quite bristling, and met her eyes. Like hell Beakley was scaring her off Webby now. Webby was hers.  
  
“I was afraid this eventuality might come about,” Mrs. Beakley confessed. “We’ll have to get in contact with SHUSH. In the meanwhile, however, I would prefer you didn’t leave the house by yourself. Do you understand?”  
  
Webby nodded and then stifled a yawn. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep that well, considering.”  
  
“Join the club,” Lena muttered but offered Webby a sympathetic smile. Lena smiled back and then Webby leaned over and pecked Lena on the cheek. Her eyes shone and Lena’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
Webby held out her other hand to Dewey and, now baffled, Lena followed Webby and Dewey back toward her room.  
  
“I have no idea what’s going on here,” Huey admitted.  
  
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” Louie said and then put an arm about Huey’s shoulders. “Let’s get some sleep.”  
  
Huey scoffed and Lena heard their receding voices as they argued. She focused on Dewey and Webby and found Dewey studying her.  
  
“What?” she asked.  
  
“You know, even sleep deprived, you still look pretty good,” Dewey said and Lena halted, nearly losing Webby if Webby hadn’t yanked her along.  
  
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Lena asked. “Or an insult?”  
  
“I’m not great at talking to cute girls, okay?” Dewey said, flustered. “I mean, I try talking to Webby--”  
  
“Webby doesn’t count,” Lena said and Webby huffed.  
  
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.  
  
“Webs, I love you, we both do, but you have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Lena said, stifling frustration. She wouldn’t even be having this conversation if she weren’t so tired that she was losing control over her normal filter.  
  
“Going on with what?” Webby asked.  
  
“We’re both in love with you, you idiot,” Lena said, wanting to bang her head into the wall. “I’ve been in love with you for four years. Dewey’s probably been in love with you since he met you. The only reason Dewey didn’t notice that I had a thing for you is that you two are annoyingly similar.  
  
“You both love adventure. You both rush headlong into things without thinking first. And you both are completely oblivious when it comes to love.”  
  
Lena folded her arms across her chest and took her hand out of Webby’s grasp.  
  
“I don’t even know what Dewey’s doing here with me.”  
  
Dewey flushed. “I’m trying to hit on you. It’s not going well.”  
  
“No shit,” Lena said. She leveled a stare at him. “You got more sleep than I did, too.”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?” Dewey demanded.  
  
“Wait, you’re both in love with me?” Webby said and her voice went up to a squeak. Lena had the dreadful feeling she’d done something irrevocable and it was about to bite her in the ass. Oh, she wished she’d had better control over her beak now. She could kick herself.  
  
“That’s what we said, wasn’t it?” Dewey asked, looking confused.  
  
“That’s what  _I_  said. You just stood there with your beak open,” Lena retorted.  
  
“But that’s great!” Webby said and Lena stared blankly.  
  
“I really don’t see how,” Lena said after a moment’s pause. “I mean, we’re in a love triangle.”  
  
“We’re in a love  _circle_!” Webby cried. “You both want to be with me, I want to be with you, it all works out!”  
  
“Um…”  
  
Lena didn’t know how to put this delicately, but had Webby lost her mind? Had she taken a blow to the head yesterday too? She wanted to shake her best friend and demand she explain herself. Judging by the bewilderment on Dewey’s face, he felt the same. They exchanged clueless looks.  
  
“We don’t have to compete for each other--not if we’re all together,” Webby explained. She tugged them back toward her bedroom and Lena had a brief, fleeting thought of Louie. Louie had known what they were getting into before they did. She hated him sometimes, with that calculating mind of his, able to see all the angles.  
  
“What does this have to do with, you know, the situation?” Dewey asked, looking at Lena.  
  
“What situation?” Webby asked.  
  
“Webby, you need to go to sleep,” Lena said. “Like, right now. You’re not making any sense and you’re kinda freaking me out.”  
  
“I’m totally making sense,” she huffed, indignant. “What’s wrong with a threesome?”  
  
Dewey and Lena went scarlet. Lena was having problems making eye contact with either of them now and she sensed the same held true for Dewey. The doctor had given Webby a full examination yesterday, but had he really?  
  
“Why aren’t you two looking at me?” she demanded.  
  
“Seriously, you need some sleep,” Lena said and grabbed Webby’s arm. “Look, we can discuss this later. None of us slept well if you noticed.”  
  
Webby huffed and then, as if taking Lena’s comment as a personal challenge, spun around and pecked Lena on the beak. Fatigue was replaced by shock, at least temporarily, and Lena pulled Webby against her. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest.  
  
“See?” Webby said, breaking away for a second. Lena’s knees threatened to buckle and she crashed against Webby. “Like that.”  
  
“Like what, exactly?” Dewey said.  
  
“I’ll show you,” Webby said and then glanced down. “Lena, are you okay?”  
  
Lena had fallen to her knees.  
  
“No, no, perfectly fine,” Lena said. “I feel like the rug was swept out from under me, but no, I’m great. Peachy.”  
  
“Good,” Webby said and then yawned. She swayed too and they both almost fell over if it hadn’t been for Dewey.  
  
“Hey, look at me,” Dewey said, almost to himself. “I get two lovely ladies on my arms.”  
  
“Don’t get used to it,” Lena grumbled. Her beak tingled from Webby’s kiss. Ugh, what were they getting themselves into?  
  


* * *

  
  
Mrs. Beakley hadn’t had a hard time finding the kids. They’d sprawled out on Webby’s bed and Lena was curled protectively in toward Webby as if Webby couldn’t defend herself. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Mrs. Beakley was afraid that, even with all the training she’d given her granddaughter, it still might not be enough. After all, she’d trained her daughter and she’d still perished.  
  
Thinking about her brought tears to her eyes, especially after that picture had stirred up bad memories. She noticed that even in sleep, Dewey and Lena gravitated toward Webby. Webby seemed to be having a dreamless sleep, but Lena’s brow was furrowed and her beak pinched tightly. Lena had nightmares courtesy of Magica de Spell. Mrs. Beakley still wished she could have throttled her into the stone age.  
  
Whether Webby knew Lena had nightmares was another story. Lena was usually careful not to let anyone see her in distress. Dewey, on the other hand, had no problems displaying his emotions. In that respect, he and his mother were entirely too alike. At least Della had settled down in the years since she’d returned to Earth.  
  
She couldn’t protect Webby forever and, it seemed, she couldn’t protect her now, either. Mrs. Beakley still had Webby’s phone; as agonizing as it was to see her daughter and son-in-law right after their deaths, it was the last picture she had of her.  
  
She needed to contact SHUSH and she was procrastinating on it, as if by doing so, she could postpone the inevitable just a little while longer. Sighing, she leaned over and kissed Webby on the forehead. Webby whined and then pulled Lena’s arm into her chest.  
  
“I certainly hope you’re not still oblivious to this love triangle,” Mrs. Beakley muttered. “Because otherwise, you’ve been sending out mixed signals for ages now.”  
  
Steeling herself, she headed into her room, locked the door, and called SHUSH. In her seventies, she was still formidable, but nowhere near her prime. Reluctantly, she had to pass the torch on. That again brought to mind visions of Vera and she was trying to suppress those.  
  
She got an answering service, which alarmed her. Even at its busiest, someone should have been present to man the phone lines. Could FOWL have infiltrated their base? Was that possible? She chewed the inside of her cheek. Between what had happened yesterday and now this, Mrs. Beakley’s instincts were screaming for action.  
  
Unfortunately, while age was simply a number, it was a number she felt in her bones right now. She let the phone ring until, irritated, she ended the call. In the old days, she could have slammed down the receiver. She missed the satisfaction of that. The new phones just didn’t suffice.  
  
Someone would have to investigate SHUSH HQ in person. She wasn’t feeling up to snuff and even if Mr. McDuck agreed to it, he wasn’t as sprightly as he’d been, either. 162 years will do that to a person. They needed someone they trusted and Mrs. Beakley in no way wanted Webby near SHUSH HQ, especially if they’d been compromised.  
  
She could think of someone that could help, except the idea of calling him was repugnant. It was disgusting. It went against her moral fiber. And she might have no choice whatsoever.  
  
But if she wasn’t in her prime, then neither was he. That meant bringing in his daughter and his daughter and Webby would get along like a match to gas. Decisions, decisions.  
  
With misgivings, knowing that she could be leading Gosalyn Mallard into a trap, she left a message for her father. Perhaps she’d be lucky and they wouldn’t return her call. True, that would leave her in dire straits, but she didn’t want to be responsible for someone getting hurt over a personal matter.  
  
Her mind flashed back to Vera’s picture and her throat tightened. She swallowed convulsively to no effect.  
  
She needed to protect Webby. She had no idea how to protect her, if it was even possible anymore. Judging by yesterday’s affairs, it was impossible. Webby had finally reached the point of no return.  
  
In the meanwhile, she’d keep trying SHUSH and seeing whether someone could take a look at the HQ in her stead. Perhaps they were simply busy, but she doubted it. In this life, there was no such thing as a coincidence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...
> 
> For future reference, Darkwing Duck/Drake Mallard is based off the 1991 version, because that's the version I grew up with and that's the one I'm most comfortable with. Also, since he was only in The Duck Knight Returns in the reboot, the '17 version isn't as strong characterwise as I need for this story.
> 
> Pretty sure that Darkwing Duck (and Gos) is just a cameo part, but they might come back to play a bit role later. 
> 
> After Friendship Hates Magic, I had to add Violet. Unlike The Duck Knight Returns, though, I feel I have some hold on her character. Also, I have no other version to contrast her with. XD

When Webby awoke, she discovered Lena staring at her. Webby flushed and Lena gestured toward Webby’s phone, which Mrs. Beakley had returned to her. It had three missed calls, one of which was from an unknown caller, and two from Violet. Webby suppressed a groan. She was supposed to have met her, wasn’t she? She’d completely flaked.  
  
“You can always tell her you were held up because you killed someone,” Lena suggested and Webby huffed. She crafted a suitably vague response to explain her absence and Violet sent her a quick reply that amounted to--” who do you think you’re fooling, Webbigail Vanderquack?” Lena could see the phone from her vantage point and snorted.  
  
“Wow, pink. You really had her fooled.”  
  
Violet was adding something else.  
  
“I know something unusual is going on. It’s not supernatural, is it?”   
  
Lena raised her eyebrows at Webby. “Lemme guess. You told her even less than you told us.”  
  
“I...I didn’t think she needed to know,” Webby said defensively. “Besides, it’s not like it comes up a lot in conversation.”  
  
“But she’s supposed to be your best friend,” Lena said and smirked. “Or are you saying that you’re closer to me than you are to her?”  
  
Webby flushed. She didn’t know what had come over her earlier, kissing Lena and then Dewey later. They were all supposed to be friends or family, not paramours. She shouldn’t have acted as she had. Maybe it was just the shock of having killed someone. Maybe she’d not been thinking straight.  
  
“I told her what she needed to know,” Webby said, still defensive.  
  
“Unless you want me to tell her?” Lena suggested, plucking the phone from her hands.   
  
“This isn’t a joke,” Webby snapped, her normal effervescent personality ebbing away and replaced by real anger. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been upset with Lena. It happened so seldom as to almost be a myth. She didn’t like snapping at her because she knew Lena had endured enough verbal abuse at Magica’s hands.   
  
Lena dropped the phone into her hands and her expression was blank. Webby grimaced.   
  
“I’m sorry,” she said.   
  
“It’s fine,” Lena said with a shrug. Subdued, she added, “I don’t know what you’re going to tell her.”  
  
“Look, about earlier--”  
  
“I said it’s fine, pink.” There was heat in Lena’s voice now and Webby realized she’d struck a nerve. Lena glared and then dropped her gaze. When she lifted it again, her eyes shone, perhaps with tears. Webby felt like she’d been cut to the quick.  
  
“It’s not a big deal. You were half awake and you weren’t thinking straight,” Lena said. “We were all tired. Forget about it.”  
  
“Not if it’s going to hurt you,” Webby protested. She slid closer to Lena on the bed and cupped her cheek in her hand. Yes, Webby had her own problems right now, but she would always drop everything if someone needed her. Plus, Lena was her best friend. She couldn’t wound her like that.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Webby said and the phone rang.   
  
“What are you doing? Answer it.”  
  
“No. This is more important.”   
  
She tried to pretend the phone’s incessant ringing wasn’t getting on her nerves. Violet could wait. Violet wasn’t here and anyway, Webby didn’t have feelings for her as she did for Lena and Dewey. She’d had a crush on Lena forever and it’d been almost the same amount of time for Dewey.  
  
“I never said I regretted what I did,” Webby said softly. Yes, okay, they were supposed to have certain roles in her life and they had slipped out of those roles. Then again, Webby had never been good at quantifying romantic entanglements. Lena was watching her intently now and Webby realized that this must’ve been what she’d really taken umbrage at, the idea that Webby could have kissed her and it meant nothing. Lena’s feelings for her best friend had always been strong, but, in true Webby fashion, she’d never noticed just how strong. Webby meant everything to Lena, but...how long had she been harboring romantic feelings for her?  
  
“You sure seem like you do,” Lena grumbled.  
  
“I’m kinda going through a lot,” Webby said with a small smile, which earned her a weak smile in return. She pulled Lena against her and hugged her. Lena planted a kiss on her temple.  
  
“Now, what do I tell Violet?” she said. The phone stopped ringing, played the voicemail jingle, and then started ringing again. Webby hit ‘accept’ and Lena leaned in to listen. They didn’t put it on speaker as Dewey remained asleep and they didn’t want to wake him.  
  
“What’s going on?” Violet demanded, suspicious. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? And what’s up with the cryptic texts?”  
  
“It’s a long story,” Webby hedged, knowing that this wouldn’t satisfy her curious friend. Her feathers still felt tingly from where Lena had brushed her beak against them.   
  
“I have time.”  
  
Lena smirked and Webby sighed, reluctantly launching into her grandmother’s time in SHUSH, her parents, and then bringing her up to present day. Through it all, Violet was reasonably quiet, only asking questions for clarification but otherwise letting her speak. Webby found herself staring blankly ahead as she spoke; only through emotional disconnect could she get the entire story out, especially regarding the photograph left on her cell phone.   
  
When she’d finished, Violet was thoughtful.  
  
“What do you think this FOWL agent would want you to do?” Violet said.   
  
“I don’t know,” Webby admitted. “That’s what scares me.”  
  
“It’d be easier to figure out if we knew which FOWL agent it was,” Violet mused.  
  
“That’s the problem. The ones that we already crossed off the list leave us with the shadowy figureheads. No one knows anything about them and what little SHUSH collected has vanished off their database. Granny was searching this morning for it.”  
  
“There’s nowhere else that they can be researched?” Violet asked, already turning the problem over in her mind.   
  
“SHUSH is a secret spy agency because it isn’t listed in any publicly accessible places,” Webby pointed out.  
  
“Not secret enough if they found your whole family,” Violet retorted.  
  
“Yeah, well…” Webby looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what they want with me, other than to toy with me. I have to find them and stop them, but Granny’s not going to go for that.”  
  
“I bet you told Lena all of this first,” Violet said.  
  
“How did you know?” Webby asked, baffled.  
  
Violet just sighed. “I’ll be right over. We’ll work something out.”  
  
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Vi,” Lena interjected, her first words since the conversation had begun. “This FOWL agent already knows about the triplets and me, not to mention Webs’ grandmother. Do you really want to give them another target?”  
  
“If they know about Webby’s family and friends, then they already know about me,” Violet rejoined, implacable.   
  
“And if they don’t?” Lena shot back.  
  
Violet was silent for so long that Webby had to check to ensure they were still connected. She didn’t like the continued quiet; it left her uneasy. Lena’s hair was doing its floopy thing again and Webby focused on that rather than the idea that she might be putting everyone in danger. She didn’t want her friends and family hurt or worse, killed. Was this what her grandmother had had to endure as Agent 22?   
  
“All right, I’ll admit it. You have a good point,” Violet said. “But I don’t want to miss something important in Webbigail’s life because I was too worried about what might happen to me.”  
  
“But, Violet, I’m worried about what’ll happen to you. Lena and the triplets live here. You don’t.”  
  
“Besides, how many people do we really want going over this with a fine-toothed comb?” Lena commented. “There are too many people involved already.”  
  
“Exactly,” Violet huffed. “What’s one more?”  
  
“Guys, guys,” Webby begged. “Please. I don’t want you in danger, Violet.”  
  
Violet paused again and Webby held her breath. After what felt like an eternity, Violet answered.  
  
“All right,” she said quietly. “I’ll stay away, but I’m not staying out of it, not by a long shot. You keep me updated with everything that’s going on, okay?”  
  
“I promise,” Webby said, feeling like a great weight had lifted off her chest. She sighed, hanging up, and then glanced at Lena. “What? Things are bad enough as it is.”  
  
“And you’d have to explain everything that happened yesterday, too,” Lena said, smirking. “You don’t want to do that.”  
  
“That’s not it,” Webby said, though that was, of course, partially it. Then again, knowing Violet, she’d already known. How was she always the last to know how people felt about her?  
  
“Sure it isn’t,” Lena snorted. She frowned. “We need to come up with a plan to deal with this.”  
  
“I don’t know how. I mean...we need more information and there’s none to be had, not unless we can hack into FOWL’s database…”  
  
After saying that, she cast her mind back to see who might be able to help. Huey had computer skills, but he would refuse to do something illegal. She loved Dewey, but hacking was not his forte. Louie would have both the computer skills and casual disregard for the law, though getting him motivated was another story. Still, he was her best hope. Perhaps she could find an incentive for him.  
  
Lena appeared to be thinking along the same lines because she sprang to her feet. After having spent years in the house, she knew where the triplets’ room was and she led the way while Webby chewed the inside of her cheek. This assumed they could even get into FOWL’s database. FOWL could have superior programmers or simply more firewalls than Louie cared to leap. A slight incline could stop Louie Duck.  
  
She discovered Louie alone in the room and surfing the internet on his phone. Either that or he was checking one of his schemes. Whatever it was, he was intent on the screen and didn’t notice their entrance. Lena cleared her throat and, when that didn’t work, cleared it louder.  
  
“What?” he huffed. “I’m in the middle of something.”  
  
“We need your help,” Webby said and sat on the bunk beside him. He shifted automatically to accommodate her. Lena leaned over the bunk but didn’t sit and Louie huffed, looking up at her.  
  
“Do you mind? You’re in my light.”  
  
“We need your help,” Webby said. “We need to figure out who’s targeting me. I was hoping you could hack into FOWL’s databases.”  
  
Louie frowned, tapping at the screen a few times. For a minute, Webby thought he was going to ignore them outright and resentment welled through her. She opened her beak to snap at him when he lowered the phone and looked up at them.  
  
“Webs, it’s not a good idea to antagonize people like that,” Louie said. “I’m the last person to preach caution, but...you saw what happened.”  
  
“I don’t remember what happened!” she exploded. “Not yesterday.”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” he said gently. “I meant your parents.”  
  
Webby froze, forgetting for a moment that she’d told him what had befallen them. The blood drained from her face and if the wall hadn’t been behind her, she would have crashed onto the floor. Lena, looking alarmed, sat beside her. It was a small bunk, but there was enough room for three of them if they squished in tightly.  
  
“Right…” Webby said once she’d gotten her breath back. “My parents…”  
  
Chilled from within, she barely noticed Lena’s arm about her and Louie putting his hand on her hand.   
  
“I’m serious. I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” he said.   
  
“They’re going to come after me anyway,” Webby said. “At least this way, I’ll be armed with knowledge.”  
  
Louie frowned, this time contemplative rather than refusing to listen. “I could use a VPN--that’d reroute the traffic and make it appear to be coming from somewhere else. And I could also disguise the IP address that way, so it’d be harder to track. If FOWL tried to send me a virus, I can disconnect before it hits. Pretty sure I can--I have experience in that.”  
  
“I have no idea what most of that meant, but I’ll take it as a good thing,” Webby said and smiled weakly at Louie, who smiled back.  
  
“I’ll let you know what I come up,” he said and then added, in a warning tone, “But it might take a while. If their firewalls are any good, hacking is a matter of hours, not minutes. I’ll have to run decryption software and find backdoors into their database, assuming it’s even online. I can run that while I’m running my game and come back to you with the results later.”

* * *

  
  
Mrs. Beakley was unaware of her granddaughter’s activities. She was scrutinizing the picture that villain had left on Webby’s phone; she’d taken it off of hers to scan for clues as to the villain’s identity. Thus far, she’d had a hard time being analytical about it. When she really tried, she could see her daughter and son-in-law as bodies laid out on the floor. However, she’d spy a distinguishing feature, her gorge would rise, and sorrow would pound at her. She couldn’t escape it.  
  
“Beakley, you’re torturing yourself,” Scrooge objected, staring at his housekeeper. “Let someone else have a crack at it.”  
  
“There’s a shadow in the upper righthand corner,” Mrs. Beakley said instead, pointing to the picture on her laptop. “But it’s not Steelbeak, it’s not Taurus Bulba, it’s not anyone I recognize. The only thing it compares with are the shadowy heads of FOWL and no one knows who they are.”  
  
She growled. “If I could figure out who they were and what they want with Webby, I could head them off myself.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley was still sitting at the dining room table. Even after breakfast had ended, she hadn’t moved. Scrooge slid into a seat beside her.  
  
“We’re not as young as we used to be, Bentina,” he said gently. “And this may be a matter better left to the professionals.”  
  
“I am a professional,” she growled and glowered at him. Then her shoulders sank and she sighed. “I know I can’t protect her much longer. But all I wanted was to keep her from this. I never wanted her to be stuck in this mess.”  
  
“Why would the head of FOWL be interested in her, anyway?” Scrooge asked, gently closing the laptop. She didn’t stop him.  
  
“It has to do with what her mother was researching before she died,” Bentina said. “She was trying to dismantle FOWL from the top down. This, of course, didn’t win her any friends.  
  
She sighed. “My Vera was determined to right all the wrongs she could find. But an unstoppable force met an immovable object…she got too close. She was about to break the case open when she and my son-in-law died.”  
  
A lump formed in her throat and she stared at the closed laptop. “For ten years, nothing. Why now? What’s changed?”  
  
“You’d have to ask SHUSH about that,” Scrooge said. “I donnae think Webby’s been poking into things like that. She’s not doing anything with SHUSH, is she?”  
  
Bentina shook her head. “That’s what’s so bewildering. This all came out of left field.”  
  
“There has to be a reason they’re stirring now,” Scrooge said, frowning. “Something someone did alerted them to her existence.”  
  
“It’s unlikely Webby to advertise personal family secrets. And I feel like this must be related to something external.”  
  
Shaking her head, she continued to stare glumly at the laptop. “It’s too late now. The worms can’t go back in. We need to deal with this.”  
  
“And we will,” Scrooge promised. She scowled, springing to her feet.  
  
“Provided the children aren’t already working on it,” she said. “Webby’s not one to leave well enough alone.”  
  
Neither were Dewey and Lena, for that matter. Add to that their natural curiosity and they were bound to be gathering information wherever they could. She’d learned in the past that it was hard to curb them and now that they were teenagers, it was nigh on impossible. She knew Dewey and Lena meant well and she knew how fiercely Lena loved Webby, but they were meddling with forces they didn’t understand. Like normal, she supposed. Ugh.  
  
“You can’t protect all of them,” he reminded her.  
  
“Or any of them, it seems.”  
  
“SHUSH didn’t answer when I called,” she said, remembering. She’d been about to propose contacting them when that popped back into her head. “I find that inauspicious after what’s happened.”  
  
“Aye,” he agreed darkly. “We need to send over someone.”  
  
“Not Drake Mallard,” she said and then grimaced. “We may not have a choice, though. I dispatched a message to Gosalyn.”  
  
“I still cannae believe that former actor turned into a viable superhero,” Scrooge said, shaking his head. “Still, better him than Jim Starling, that hack.”  
  
That hack, now running around as Negaduck. Mrs. Beakley shook her head at that.  
  
“I know he means well,” Mrs. Beakley said, pressing her beak together tightly. “I’m just afraid to rope someone else in here.”  
  
“We donnae have a choice.”  
  
“We do…” she protested. “They’re just all bad ones.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed, bouncing up and down on her seat after she’d read Mrs. Beakley’s message. “I wanna come!”  
  
“You can’t,” Drake Mallard said huffily. “One, you’re not an official SHUSH agent. And two and more importantly, this is too dangerous.”  
  
“Aren’t you the one who always says ‘let’s get dangerous’?” she challenged. “Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?”  
  
“Do as I say, not as I do,” he retorted.  
  
Gosalyn blew him a raspberry. “I can handle it.”  
  
“You wrecked the Ratcatcher last week because you said you could ‘handle driving it’. Oh, no. You’re not getting any more responsibility, Gos.”  
  
“That lamppost came out of nowhere!”  
  
“And now you sound like Launchpad,” he said and shook his head. He half expected the pilot to come rushing in at the sound of his name. A few years ago, he’d moved into Drake’s house permanently, for better or worse. Speaking of ‘better or worse’...but, no, not something he was going to think about right now. Gosalyn was far more important.  
  
“I was totally paying attention,” she said defensively. “It’s not my fault that the lamppost jumped.”  
  
Drake rolled his eyes. “You’re not going and that’s final.”  
  
“You and I both know I’ll find a way to get there anyway,” Gosalyn retorted. “So there’s really no point in grounding me or forbidding me.”  
  
He glared, hating that she had a point. Chances were she’d probably end up sneaking along or figuring out alternative transportation. They both knew where SHUSH HQ was, which meant if she cajoled Launchpad to take her there or found another ride, she’d be there. Drake sighed. He just wanted to protect his little girl. What was wrong with that? True, she was a teenager now, but he’d always see her as his little girl.  
  
He sighed, coming to a decision. It wasn’t one he liked but it was inevitable.  
  
“Fine. You can come,” he said and she whooped. “But you have to do everything I say. You cannot go exploring on your own. And you can’t bring Honker. Is that understood?”  
  
Gosalyn beamed at him. “I’ll be a perfect little angel.”  
  
“Yeah, right,” Drake muttered. “Like you always are.”  
  
Gosalyn cocked her head at him. “I am! I can’t help it if the devil shows up once in a while. But you’re a good influence on me.”  
  
“No, I’m a bad influence because I’m letting you do this,” he said and shook his head. “Suit up and get everything in gear, Gos. I’m leaving in twenty minutes.”  
  
“Is Launchpad coming?”   
  
At fifteen, she still wore a baseball jersey, but this time with jeans. Her hair was cut short and she came up to about Drake’s shoulders. She’d probably end up being taller than him. Everyone was taller than him.   
  
“He might as well,” Drake said. “Let’s bring the whole gang in.”  
  
He facepalmed. “Hell, bring in Gizmoduck too. It’s not like this can get any worse.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The blood trail led from the entrance and went deep into the lab. Darkwing stood, stunned and appalled. For once, Gosalyn wasn’t chomping at the bit to get in. Instead, she stared, aghast, at the potential crime scene and her father. He could feel the weight of her gaze and the heaviness of what awaited them. Beakley was right. They had a serious problem.  
  
“Should we go in?” Launchpad asked, looking faintly ill.  
  
“There’s only one way to know for certain,” Darkwing said and swallowed the bile that burned his throat. “Let’s go. Let’s...get dangerous.”  
  
It was a somber group that followed him into the SHUSH building. Lights flickered overhead and dimmed the gruesome scene, bodies everywhere, but not enough in his opinion. He still could tell what had happened. Gosalyn coughed and he swept his cape protectively before her. He couldn’t defend her and Launchpad simultaneously, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.   
  
“FOWL did this?” Launchpad asked quietly. “It’s like a ghost town in here.”  
  
“Complete with the cemetery,” Gosalyn muttered. She looked green around the gills.  
  
“Did I say that this couldn’t get worse?” he asked, glad he hadn’t asked Gizmoduck to accompany them. Gizmoduck was such a self-righteous prat. It was funny, too, because he knew Gizmoduck’s true identity and he didn’t hate Fenton. Just Gizmoduck. Something about that chrome-head really ground his gears.  
  
“I shouldn’t have. Because it can.”  
  
It looked like the victims were among the lower echelons of SHUSH. Of the scientists such as Sara Bellum, there was no sign. They must have escaped, which would’ve been a relief if SHUSH didn’t look like a bloodbath. He shuddered, reaching for Launchpad’s hand. Launchpad held it without question. That was one of the things he liked about Launchpad. He knew without speaking what Darkwing needed.  
  
“There’s nothing to be found here, DW,” Launchpad said quietly.  
  
“I know, I know…” Darkwing hissed through his clenched beak. “But I need something to bring back to Beakley. Something concrete.”  
  
“Bodies aren’t concrete?” Gosalyn opined sarcastically, the effect marred by her swallowing back her gorge. She shuddered and looked more like the child she had been when Darkwing had adopted her than her normal self. Darkwing drew her closer to him.  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Darkwing protested. To be fair, he didn’t know what he meant either. He was running on vapors now. The massacre left a sour taste in his beak and he wanted, more than anything, to leave. Yet he couldn’t fight the feeling that by leaving, he’d be dooming someone who needed him or overlooking a vital clue.  
  
“Negaduck’s part of FOWL, isn’t he?” Gosalyn asked.  
  
“This wasn’t Negaduck’s work,” Darkwing replied absently. “It wasn’t Bushroot, Megavolt, Liquidator, or Quackerjack, either. I don’t know who this is.”  
  
“Maybe that’s a clue, DW,” Launchpad said, gesturing with his free hand at a bloodied note pinned to the wall. Darkwing stepped forward, releasing his family to snatch the paper. Gosalyn brought her cell phone closer and put the flashlight on so that he could read it.  
  
Darkwing scanned the note; it was the typical villainous boast, full of arrogance and self-aggrandizing. What was interesting and sickening was the postscript. His stomach roiled and he looked at Gosalyn, but he wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing Webby.  
  
“Tell Webby that this is stage 2,” Gosalyn read. “I know where you live. I can come ‘visit’ any time I want. Just a little drop in visit and chat.”  
  
She met her father’s eyes. “McDuck Manor’s secure, isn’t it?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Launchpad said. “No one’s broken in during the last two years.”  
  
“Maybe not secure enough,” Darkwing murmured. He didn’t know how to bring this to Beakley. True, he’d wanted something more concrete and now he had it and wanted it burned. He swept Gosalyn up in a tight hug and she hugged him back.  
  
“Can we leave now?” Launchpad asked, hopping from one foot to another and swallowing hard, presumably to keep from vomiting.  
  
“Yes,” Darkwing decided. “There’s nothing more here.”  
  
“What are we going to tell Mrs. Beakley and Webby?” Gosalyn asked quietly.  
  
“I have no idea,” he said, staring down at the note. All the options seemed equally abhorrent. There was no rest for the weary and although Mrs. Beakley hadn’t told Gosalyn everything, Darkwing and Gosalyn knew enough. A little knowledge could be a dangerous thing and it looked like whatever Webby’s parents had been meddling in had been too dangerous for them to survive.  
  
“Did they kill all of those people to punish Webby?” Gosalyn murmured.  
  
“I…” His throat constricted. That was the last thing Webby needed, to have all of those deaths on her conscience.   
  
“No,” he decided, even if he believed the opposite. He wouldn’t tell Mrs. Beakley the extent of the carnage and wouldn’t let her burden Webby with it. He would’ve done the same to spare Gosalyn. It was the least he could do.  
  
“Let’s go home.”  
  
He turned to find Launchpad retching loudly in a corner and waited until his partner was done before taking his hand again. They were in it deep now.


	5. Chapter 5

Louie stared, aghast, at his smoking laptop. It had quite literally burned itself out. Lena and Webby exchanged uneasy glances; the green-clad triplet looked like he was about to burst into tears. Webby made an abortive attempt to touch him and then withdrew her hand. Louie was upset enough without adding fuel to the fire. So she and Lena stood there, feeling like they were superfluous, extras in a play that no one cared about.  
  
“I made one swipe at FOWL’s security system and I thought I was getting somewhere…” Louie said. The horrible smell of melted electronics pinched their beaks. It was a combination of melting plastic and metal and it reeked to the high heavens. For as long as she lived, Lena never wanted to smell that again.  
  
“I knew they could send a virus. I knew they could wipe out my hard drive. But this?” Louie held up the destroyed computer. “This is horrible even by their standards.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Webby said, which seemed like an understatement. It was all she could offer him and Lena knew it wouldn’t be enough.  
  
“You’re sorry? Who the hell are these people?” he demanded. “How could they wreck my laptop like that? They overclocked it and fried it in, like, a minute. There was nothing I could do.  
  
“I told you they were dangerous, Webs.”  
  
“I know they’re dangerous,” Webby snapped. “They had me kill someone yesterday, Louie! But if you won’t help, then I’ll find another way--”  
  
“Are you insane?” he demanded, grabbing her hand. “Webs, you can’t keep chasing after this.”  
  
“It’s too late. They’re already chasing after me,” she pointed out. “I might as well figure out who they are.”  
  
“If they went this far just to keep me from finding out, what about you? What lengths would they go to in order to prevent you from finding out their identities? It’s too dangerous.”  
  
“I know it’s dangerous,” Webby said, testy. “I don’t have a choice.”  
  
Mutely, Louie appealed to Lena. Lena had nothing to say. It occurred to her that they’d misplaced Dewey somewhere in the manor. He’d turn up eventually. Thinking about Dewey made Lena’s stomach flip-flop. She didn’t know what to make of the blue triplet. She’d never thought about Dewey romantically, but then again, her thoughts had been almost hyperfocused on Webby for years. Even standing near her was making her horribly conscious of Webby’s proximity again.  
  
“They killed my parents, Louie,” Webby said in a softer tone. She was holding it together by a thread.  
  
“And I don’t want them to kill you too,” Louie replied, somber. “You’re our sister, Webs.”  
  
He paused, adding, “Well, maybe you’re mine and Huey’s sister. Dewey’s had a crush on you for ages now.”  
  
“We know about that,” Lena said, forestalling Webby’s comment. “Finally. I had to spell it out for her.”  
  
Louie rolled his eyes, but his brief moment of mirth vanished. “Webs, I’m serious.”  
  
“I have to do this,” she said, shaking her head. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket. Lena’s heart skittered about in her chest. Dread swooped down on her and she had a sudden urge to rip the phone out of Webby’s hands. It was too late, at any rate. She’d already seen the picture.  
  
It was of her, Violet, and Lena in her bedroom.  _In her room._ That meant that the asshole had eyes inside the house too. They needed to tell Scrooge. Lena felt sick to her stomach, considering what the asshole might’ve witnessed. She felt like her privacy had not just been invaded, but ripped to shreds.  
  
“They’re in the security system,” Louie breathed. He cursed and put aside his laptop. “We need to tell Uncle Scrooge right now.”  
  
They stormed out in time to run into Dewey, who was drinking a can of Pep and looking bewildered. “What’s going on?”  
  
In response, Webby showed him her phone.  
  
“I don’t get it. Why is everyone so angry?” he asked.  
  
“One, I don’t have security cameras in my bedroom and two, if I did, no one else should be able to see them except Uncle Scrooge. Someone hacked into our cameras, Dewey. Someone’s been spying on us,” she said tensely and then gnawed at the inside of her beak. “Violet’s in danger too.”  
  
“So...how do we know which cameras they’ve hacked?” Dewey asked. “Or when they’re watching them?”  
  
“We don’t,” Lena said, seizing Webby’s hand and squeezing. Webby was still outraged and it wasn’t having much effect.  
  
“So, they could’ve been spying on us at any time?” Dewey asked and Webby noded. She looked too furious to speak aloud. Lena pulled Webby close to her; it had the added effect of calming down the younger girl and also, slightly mollifying her as well. She could feel her darker tendencies returning, namely the desire to attack someone for daring to spy on them.  
  
“And we don’t know how long they’ve been spying on us,” Webby replied, resuming her angry stalk down the hallway. Lena and Dewey had no trouble keeping up, at least until she started running. Then Lena suppressed a sigh. When Webby was on the move, she didn’t usually wait for stragglers, especially when she was too angry to think straight.  
  
They found Scrooge attempting to calm Mrs. Beakley down. Lena glanced from one angry female to another and groaned. Yeah, this was going to go well. She didn’t know which one of them was angrier--Webby or Mrs. Beakley. The sight of her grandmother’s fury halted Webby in mid-sentence and whatever she was about to say withered away and died.  
  
“Granny, I…”  
  
“They crashed the internet and nearly burned my computer in the process,” Mrs. Beakley snapped. That sounded familiar.  
  
“And then, when both came back up, they sent me  _this_.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley pulled up an image of Lena, Dewey, and Webby sleeping together. It was somehow worse than the one Webby had received because this implied that slumber left them vulnerable to attack. Someone spying on them during their intimate moments wasn’t enough. This person had demonstrated they had eyes on the manor at all times.  
  
A glass further down the table exploded, which prompted Scrooge and Mrs. Beakley to finally notice them. Lena’s magic was creeping out of control again, a side effect of her impotent fury. She drew a deep, shaky breath and pushed Webby’s phone toward them, though at this point, it was unnecessary. The point had been made. The manor was no longer safe.  
  
“I’ll get Gyro in here pronto to scan our security system,” Scrooge said, scowling. “In the meanwhile, I donnae like our options. We cannae leave the security system off--it’d make us vulnerable. We’re already vulnerable enough as it is.  
  
“We’ll have to tell the others,” Scrooge said, shaking his head. “And maybe look into more physical security for the manor.”  
  
Mrs. Beakley glowered and he hastily amended his statement.  
  
“Not that you’re not enough, Bentina. But we cannae expect FOWL to play by the rules any more than they already have.”  
  
“I can’t believe they recorded us sleeping,” Dewey said, incredulous. “Who does that?”  
  
Lena’s stomach clenched. If they’d caught that, then they’d probably witnessed Webby kissing her and Dewey. It had taken so much courage for Lena to admit she had feelings for Webby and this person would use it as ammunition against her. The window behind them cracked.  
  
“Lena,” Scrooge growled in a warning tone.  
  
“What?” Lena snapped, close to insubordination and toeing the line. “Do you have any idea what they’ve been watching?”  
  
“We’re aware,” Mrs. Beakley snapped, her ire reserved for FOWL. “But we’re not replacing every window or glass object in the house because you can’t rein in your temper or your magic.”  
  
Lena drew a deep, bracing breath. Her amulet was glowing and she was so furious, she was sick with it. Dewey put a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Hey,” Dewey said softly. “We’ll figure this out.”  
  
“I cannae think of anywhere that’s supposed to be as secure as McDuck Manor,” Scrooge said and his eyes flashed. “If they can strike here, they can strike anywhere.”  
  
“And isn’t that a reassuring thought,” Mrs. Beakley growled.  
  
“We can’t just sit around and wait,” Dewey said. “We have to attack them.”  
  
“How do you propose to do that?” Mrs. Beakley said archly.  
  
“Get their attention?” he suggested.  
  
“We already have their attention,” she snapped. “Try again.”  
  
Scrooge bowed out, perhaps to alert Huey and Louie to the situation, more likely to avoid Mrs. Beakley’s ire. Lena didn’t blame him, but she was too angry to avoid confrontation right now. Dewey’s hand on her shoulder was preventing her from losing her temper further and breaking things left and right, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still incensed.  
  
“Uh, well…” Dewey said, fumbling. “We could do something really outrageous.”  
  
“Such as…?” Mrs. Beakley suggested tensely.  
  
Mrs. Beakley’s phone vibrated so hard that it nearly fell off the table.  
  
“Well, like that but louder,” Dewey said. Mrs. Beakley scowled at the number, held up a finger, and answered the phone.  
  
Lena couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but as the speaker continued, Mrs. Beakley’s expression grew grave. The anger drained, replaced by unease and then a hint of despair. Lena, who was never good at physical contact, particularly with people older than her, nonetheless stepped forward and hugged Mrs. Beakley quickly. She stepped back, just in case she was going to get hit for her effort, though Mrs. Beakley had never shown the slightest inclination to strike her.  
  
When the phone call ended, Mrs. Beakley glanced at Lena. “Lena, it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”  
  
“What was the phone call about?” Lena said, eager to change the subject before things got too heavy.  
  
“SHUSH is under attack. Sara Bellum and its head are in a secure location, as far as Darkwing can tell. But we don’t know where. Anyone that got caught in the crossfire…” Mrs. Beakley swallowed hard, seeming like she was about to edit her story to spare Webby’s feelings. Webby shook her head.  
  
“I can handle it, Granny,” Webby said.  
  
“They put up a good fight,” Mrs. Beakley said finally. Webby’s lower beak quivered, but she didn’t cry.  
  
“So, are they okay or…?” Dewey stopped. “Oh. Oh, right.”  
  
“So if SHUSH is underground, then we’re on our own,” Webby said softly.  
  
“But not without help,” Lena said. “You have us, after all.”  
  
Webby nodded and, at the same time, Lena thought, but didn’t say,  _But are we enough?_

* * *

  
  
When she received another text, she was perusing the library shelves in Duckburg’s library--the others had gone thinking there might be a hint or a clue as to what FOWL could be planning. Buried in the stacks, she nonetheless backed toward a corner to prevent anyone from looking over her shoulder. Lena wasn’t too keen on the library, especially after Webby had spent all that time researching for a way to bring her back from the shadow realm. Violet was always eager to spend time in the library, as she was a fellow book nerd like Webby. Dewey had gone for emotional support, and he was currently playing a computer game.  
  
The text listed specific coordinates in Duckburg and the stipulation that she meet him alone. It wasn’t a good idea--she didn’t need anyone to tell her that. After all, assuming that FOWL’s attack on SHUSH and what had happened yesterday were related, she could be putting herself in considerable danger. Lena, Violet, and even Dewey would probably tell her not to go. She stuck her head out from the stacks to spy Violet poring over a thick, dense tome. She wouldn’t notice if Webby slipped out the back way.  
  
She might not notice, but Lena and Dewey would be incensed. Violet would probably be upset too, thinking Webby was being foolhardy. Could she do that to her friends? And where had Lena vanished off to? She wasn’t playing a video game with Dewey and she wasn’t staring at old hardcover books with Violet. Webby spun, half expecting to find Lena dogging her steps. When she didn’t, she breathed a little easier. She still needed to sneak out of here without arousing suspicion.  
  
Was she being foolish? Yes, most likely. If there was a chance to discover answers, she would take it. Stuffing her cell phone in her pocket in her skirt, she scanned the library before slipping out the side exit. She breathed a sigh of relief, thinking she’d gotten away without detection.  
  
“Hey, pink.”  
  
Webby froze and turned her head slowly. Lena hadn’t been in the library at all but sitting on the front steps. Webby’s heart pounded like a jackhammer.  
  
“Hi,” Webby said. It was too late to rush and evade notice. Why was Lena sitting there, anyway, if not to intercept her?  
  
“Going somewhere?” Lena asked. She rose to her feet and shoved her cell phone into a pocket in her shirt. “Vi and I thought you might try that.”  
  
“I have to go,” Webby said.  
  
“You have to run headlong into danger and kill someone again?” Lena asked and Webby bristled.  
  
“I have to find out if this person knows any more about what he’s happening,” she snapped.  
  
“Of course they know more. They’re orchestrating it. Think about it, pink. Why else would they want to lure you there by yourself if not because then there would be no witnesses?”  
  
Lena advanced and Webby stood her ground. Her beak was clenched tightly.  
  
“I’m not letting you go out alone,” Lena warned. “So you can forget about it.”  
  
“The text told me not to bring anyone,” Webby said.  
  
“Like I said--they don’t want witnesses. What if this is a trap? What if they only want to finish what they started?”  
  
The thought had occurred to Webby too before she’d received the text. Hearing it from Lena, however, made her stomach clench. She could run past Lena. She was pretty sure she could beat her, provided the other girl didn’t use her amulet. Yet there was a world of difference between sneaking out and actively avoiding her best friend.  
  
“You can’t do this alone.”  
  
“I have to find out what happened to my parents,” Webby said, swallowing past a lump in her throat.  
  
“By repeating history?”  
  
Lena came closer and put her hands on Webby’s shoulders. “I love you, pink. Don’t do this.”  
  
If anything, now Webby felt even more encumbered, shackled by Lena’s confession and her own desire not to cause strife. Maybe there was a way Lena could come, provided she stuck to the shadows. Then again, somehow she didn’t think Lena was all that keen on shadows. At the same time, she couldn’t risk losing her. This was, of course, exactly how Lena felt about her, which didn’t make matters any better.  
  
“Don’t go,” Lena implored.  
  
The phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. This time, Lena glanced over at the screen.  
  
“Tick-tock,” the text read. “Time is fleeting, Webbigail. I’m watching you right now.”  
  
Lena growled, thrusting herself in front of Webby. Her amulet glowed warningly, forever a part of her now, and an indication that she wasn’t a normal duck, but something composed wholly of magic. Lena’s eyes flashed.  
  
“Where are you, you coward?” she demanded. “Show yourself!”  
  
“They may not be here at all,” Webby warned. “They might’ve hacked Duckburg’s camera system.”  
  
Webby’s heart pounded. She glanced around, giving the lie to her words. They could be here, in person, lying in wait, like a sniper on the roof. This was a disaster. She wanted to protect Lena and Lena wanted to defend her. Her hand sought Lena’s and squeezed. Lena interlaced their fingers.  
  
“I won’t let anything else happen to you,” Lena said fiercely.  
  
The front doors clanged open and Violet came running down the steps with a book in her hand.  
  
“Webbigail, Lena, I’ve found--” she stopped. There was a split second warning, but it was enough time for Lena to throw down a magical barrier and knock Violet over. A bullet chipped the steps behind Violet. The book went flying out of her hands and bounced down the steps. Webby’s stomach churned.  
  
“What’s going on?” Violet asked in a subdued voice.  
  
“Someone is toying with us,” Lena growled. She held out her free hand to Violet and, with obvious misgivings, Violet scurried toward them. Judging by the look on her face, she was expecting another bullet. She was shaking a little and struggling to hide it when she reached Lena’s side.  
  
“Webbigail, did you get any more texts?” Violet asked and, mutely, Webby handed over her phone.  
  
“Oh, this is bad,” Violet said.  
  
“You think?” Lena said sarcastically. In a more normal tone, she said, “I wish I could teleport us out of here. The best I can do is throw down some smoke to conceal our exit and block their shot.”  
  
“Then do it!” Violet hissed and Lena nodded, though she looked irritated at being ordered around. She created a purple gas cloud that reminded Webby of Magica and then they bolted down the steps in the confusion.  
  
“Dewey! What about Dewey?” Webby protested. “We can’t just leave him!”  
  
“They already shot at me once, but you can create a barrier,” Violet said, looking at Lena. Lena jerked away from both girls and her expression became resolute.  
  
“If I get shot, I’m blaming you,” she warned Violet and shuddered. “Webby, whatever you do, don’t follow those coordinates.”  
  
“She wouldn’t do something so rash,” Violet said and then spied the look on Webby’s face. “...oh, no. Webbigail!”  
  
“I’m sorry!” Webby cried, rushing down the steps with Violet hurrying after her. Lena went in the opposite direction to grab Dewey.  
  
She knew that Violet wasn’t trained in martial arts like she was and wouldn’t be able to abscond as quickly. She also knew this gave her an unfair advantage. On the other hand, if she met up with this villain, perhaps he/they would stop shooting at her friends. Of course, that assumed she survived both the encounter and rejoining her friends because she was pretty sure Lena was going to want to kill her for this.  
  
 _“Webbigail!_ ” Violet snapped; Webby slid underneath a narrow fence, nearly got her hair snarled in it in the process, and then bolted down a back alley. Within a minute, she had lost her. It didn’t make her feel triumphant--if anything, she felt guiltier for having evaded her. She had no guarantee that this person wouldn’t attack her friends in her absence. She was going by a gut feeling and she could be wrong.  
  
“Sorry!” Webby gasped, aware that her friends couldn’t hear her.  
  
As she traveled further from the library, she grew aware that she was heading for the bad part of town. Then again, where else would a criminal want to meet her? Certainly not anywhere reputable. Her stomach flip-flopped again. She might be setting herself up for disaster again, but she would not let her friends be endangered because of her.  
  
She bolted through the streets until she reached the coordinates listed on her cell phone. Then she halted, catching her breath and scanning her surroundings. So far, no one had materialized. As she waited, dread swooped down upon her. Her contact could be anywhere. They could be waiting with a gun pointed at her. She should never have run blindly into this, though she didn’t see that she had a choice.  
  
Besides the fact her contact could be anywhere, it could be anyone. With her breathing returned to normal, she scrutinized her surroundings anew.  
  
“Webbigail Vanderquack.”  
  
Webby spun, hearing a distorted voice but being unable to see the speaker. She assumed a defensive position.  
  
“Who are you?” she snapped. “What do you want? Did you shoot at my friends?”  
  
“All in good time, Webbigail.”  
  
She still couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. Scanning the rooftops above her yielded nothing. She was in a narrow alley and if it came to a fight, she might end up cornered. Still, there were trash can lids, broken pipes, and steel bars that could be used as weapons, should she need them. Unfortunately, other than jumping up, there was only one way out of this alley.  
  
“But first, I need you to do something for me.”  
  
“Why should I do anything for you?” she spat. “You killed my parents.”  
  
“And if you don’t want me to kill your friends, then you’ll do exactly as I say,” the voice continued, implacable. “Let’s play a little game, Webbigail.”  
  
“No,” she growled. “I’m not playing along.”  
  
“You say that now, but when one of your friends dies, you’ll sing a different tune.”  
  
“You’re not touching them.”  
  
“Oh, Webbigail, how naive you are. How very naive indeed.”  
  
A figure swooped down from the rooftops, one she hadn’t glimpsed until it was before her and thrusting at her with knives. She dodged, grabbing a trash can lid to use as a shield. Whoever her opponent was, they were fast and adroit. They reminded her a little of D’Jinn, except they radiated malevolence. Though the figure was cloaked from head to toe in black, they glared balefully at her. There was so much evil in their gaze that it almost took her breath away.  
  
“Why fight me when you can do exactly as I say?” the voice taunted and then knocked her off her feet. She threw the garbage can lid up to protect from a knife thrust and then gasped as it reopened her stitches. Blood soaked her shirt and the person laughed.  
  
“You’re already injured. I’d forgotten.”  
  
“You’re not getting anywhere near any of them ever again,” Webby spat.  
  
“Naive little duckling.”  
  
The pain in her side was unbearable. She gritted her teeth against it and then screamed when the figure stomped down on her injured side. Lights flashed before her eyes, but she kept fighting. Never give up, never give in. She aimed a kick wildly and the figure gasped, stumbling backward and off of her. Webby shuddered, breathing heavily, forcing herself to her feet despite the pain.  
  
“I’m naive?” she growled. “You really think you stand a chance against me?”  
  
“Yes. Yes, I do.”  
  
The knife came at her head and she dodged it, punching them in the solar plexus. Her injury was slowing her down and making her stiff. The blood loss was making her light-headed. If she didn’t end this soon, she might not be able to end it at all on her terms.  
  
The knife slashed down at her and she slammed the garbage can lid into the figure’s head. When they were dazed, she brought all her force to bear down upon her opponent and sent them crashing to the ground. They collapsed and, her legs buckling beneath her, she did too. She’d expended too much energy fighting him off. There would be a reckoning--hers.  
  
But it would be worth it to protect her friends.


	6. Chapter 6

It occurred to her that this was the second time in as many days that she’d collapsed, bleeding, after an altercation. She struggled to her feet; her legs did not want to support her weight. Since she’d evaded Violet, Dewey, and Lena, she couldn’t anticipate help coming from that direction. What worried her was that her opponent, whoever he happened to be, wouldn’t remain unconscious for long. Sooner or later, he’d revive and she was in no shape for continued melee. Wielding the trash can lid, she bashed it against his head several times in quick succession. The effort drained her and she groaned, slumping against the wall. It felt like she was bleeding heavier now than she’d been yesterday.  
  
Could Lena find her with her amulet? Webby still wasn’t entirely clear on what magic could and couldn’t accomplish. Lena had found her yesterday, hadn’t she? Or had that been sheer, dumb luck? Webby, using the wall to support herself, inched out of the alleyway with her free hand pressed to her side. She couldn’t hope to staunch the bleeding and soon, her hand was coated in blood too.  
  
A cold breeze swept through the alley and she shivered, teeth chattering. She was chillier than she ought to be. The blood loss was causing her to lose heat. Shuddering, she reached up to rub her arms and crashed into metal trash cans. She groaned, uncertain whether she could get up.  
  
Panting, she pulled out her cell phone and groaned again. She had ten missed calls from Dewey alone. As if her phone felt the need to complicate the situation further, it rang again. Violet, this time. Webby ignored it. She did not want to hear it, not now.  
  
Of course, she could use the help. She wasn’t sure she was capable of making it back to the manor in this condition. She had no idea how much blood she was losing but would err on the side of “too much”. Again, her phone rang and this time, she saw the caller ID and groaned. Violet she could ignore without too many consequences, Lena would be furious and possibly leading the charge to locate her, but her grandmother? Her grandmother would be livid. Even at age fifteen, Webby was still in awe of her grandmother. She’d seldom been angry at Webby and the thought of catching her in a towering rage was unnerving.  
  
Glad that her grandmother wouldn’t be able to see her face, she accepted the call.  
  
“Webbigail Vanderquack, where are you?” her grandmother demanded. “Violet and Dewey stopped back at the manor, but Lena stormed off to find you.”  
  
Of course she had.  
  
“You abandoned us,” Dewey called and she winced.  
  
“Well? Do you have anything to say in your defense?” her grandmother demanded.  
  
“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she protested and her voice was surprisingly and alarmingly weak. So much for concealing her injury. She hissed, crashing to her knees again, and tears welled in her eyes. No, she wouldn’t be walking out of this alley on her own two feet. She’d need help, assuming that help could arrive before that jerk woke up. This also assumed she hadn’t just killed someone again, which she hoped she hadn’t, because that was a whole new can of worms she didn’t care to examine too closely.  
  
Mrs. Beakley sighed heavily. “Webby…”  
  
She wanted to tell her that she was fine, but her grandmother would hear the lie immediately. She clutched a hand to her side though it was futile. She wasn’t staunching the flow and she had nothing to tie a tourniquet with, even if it’d been in a place where she might’ve been able to cut off blood flow. And now she was getting woozy. She cursed.  
  
“Webby!” Her grandmother’s voice blended in with Lena’s. She raised her head feebly and saw the older teen approach glowing. Lena was two for two in finding her. She was impressed, even if it didn’t help. She hadn’t meant to be so easy to find. That meant that someone else might be able to attack her friends if they used her as bait…  
  
“Damn it, pink,” Lena hissed. She knelt at Webby’s side. “You opened up your stitches again.”  
  
“Lena--” Webby managed as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The guy might’ve been down, but he wasn’t out. Lena spun, likewise sensing something, and only barely brought the trash can lid up in time. The pressure the man brought to bear was impressive, especially considering that he clearly had a head wound which was bleeding profusely. Webby and her assailant were a matched pair.  
  
“You--” Lena swallowed whatever else she was intending to say and her glow increased. She must’ve been using her magic to locate her. Where the amulet resided, in the center of her chest, was almost blinding from Webby’s viewpoint on the ground. To her attacker, it must’ve been disabling because he hissed, covering his eyes. That gave Webby the opening she needed. She wouldn’t be able to make any strong, decisive strikes, not in her condition, but she should be able to strike one final blow.  
  
Kicking out and ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in her side when she did so, Webby knocked the man off his feet. Lena clobbered him with the trash can lid and thrashed him a couple more times for good measure. Their eyes met when the man collapsed again.  
  
“He won’t stop until one of us is dead,” Webby said weakly.  
  
“What are you saying?” Lena demanded.  
  
She knew what she was saying. Lena’s hands trembled on the trash can lid. “I’m not killing someone.”  
  
Webby assessed the situation. She lacked the strength to bring all of her power to bear. However, if Lena didn’t or wouldn’t kill the man, she needed to. Using the wall to lean on, she attempted to stand. Her legs crumpled underneath her and she cursed.  
  
“We need to get out of here,” Lena hissed.  
  
“If he survives, he’ll come after me again,” Webby whispered, hating herself for her weakness. There was blood everywhere. It looked like a massacre. She couldn’t even rest on her knees for too long either. If Lena hadn’t rushed to catch her, she would’ve crashed into the ground. Her breathing was shallow and her vision flickered.  
  
“If he doesn’t, they’ll send someone else,” Lena countered. “We need to get home, Webs.”  
  
“I can...still fight…” she huffed. She stared at Lena and hoped she’d get the hint.  
  
“No,” Lena said harshly. “You can’t. Don’t be an idiot.”  
  
This time, the movement was almost in back of her and Webby whipped her head about. The motion dizzied her and she groaned, realizing that whatever else happened was out of her control, at least for the time being. She was flagging fast.  
  
Said someone landed before them and sneered. Lena clutched Webby to her tightly and glared.  
  
“Pathetic, Webbigail Vanderquack. Just what I would’ve expected from Agent 222’s offspring. Clearly not your best work.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Lena growled and her arms tightened about Webby. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Why are you putting her through the wringer?”  
  
“I smell magic on you,” the figure countered. He had a deep, gravelly voice and Webby felt herself sliding toward semi-consciousness. Lena was applying pressure to her side to stem the blood flow, but Webby suspected it wasn’t working. She was losing too much blood too fast and the last time she’d checked, Lena was incapable of teleportation.  
  
An odd, disconnected thought sprang to mind. Had she ever hung up the phone? She didn’t remember doing so. Then again, she wasn’t holding it anymore, so she must’ve dropped it sometime in the last five minutes. She couldn’t hear her grandmother anymore. Did that mean her grandmother had hung up? Or that she’d rushed to her side? How could she know where she was when no one had identified her surroundings? Or did she have a tracker on her? Did Lena?  
  
Her focus on the conversation drifted in and out. She couldn’t hold onto the threads of reality. She was aware that the thug was threatening Lena and wished she could help. She was also aware of something else, but she couldn’t pinpoint what that was. Lena retreated, holding onto Webby tightly. Webby could feel her shaking.  
  
“Stay away from my girls,” her grandmother snapped. Lena’s trembling lessened, perhaps due to the shock of being considered belonging to the family. Webby tried her utmost to hold onto the situation from there, but couldn’t. It was like the longer and harder she tried to grasp the situation, the more it slipped through her fingers. She wondered if she’d have to go to the hospital this time. It seemed likely. Thinking was growing more and more difficult, her thoughts growing turgid.  
  
She couldn’t hear the response, though she assumed it was something like “make me”. Webby groaned and Lena clutched her as tightly as she dared.  
  
“You’re gonna be okay, pink. You’re gonna be okay.”  
  
The words made no sense, but the reverberations coming from Lena’s chest when she spoke were reassuring somehow. Webby let herself drift off. She could trust Granny and Lena to handle the situation. And if they couldn’t, there wasn’t anything she could do anyway, so there was no point in holding on to worry about it.  
  
She sighed and knew no more.  
  


* * *

  
  
The next thing Webby knew, she was in a hospital bed. Lena, Violet, and Dewey were nearby. Huey and Louie were outside, judging by their murmured voices, and her grandmother was remonstrating them. She lifted her head and then it dropped back onto the pillow. Evidently, she lacked the strength to move. Lena and Violet shifted when they saw that slight movement and Violet snapped closed the book she’d been perusing. She stuck her finger in it to mark her place.  
  
“I hope you’re happy, Webbigail,” Violet scolded. “You could have been killed.”  
  
“You guys are all alright, aren’t you?” Webby pressed and winced at the breathy quality of her voice. Violet put the book aside, supported her head, and Lena trickled water down her sore throat. Webby was able then to shift her head and spied a number of tubes, IVs, and electrodes connected to her. She smiled weakly, chagrined.  
  
“You could’ve been killed or are you missing that point?” Lena hissed.  
  
“We were worried sick about you,” Dewey added. “I thought you promised us you weren’t going to do that.”  
  
“Clearly, she isn’t adhering to her promises,” Violet said.  
  
“I was trying to protect you,” Webby protested.  
  
“And who was going to protect you?” Lena countered. “If I hadn’t come running in after you, pink, who knows what would’ve happened?”  
  
“The guy’s not dead, is he?” Webby asked unhappily.  
  
“We don’t know,” Lena said after casting glances with Dewey and Violet. “Your grandmother threw down purple smoke bombs and carried us out of there. He could still be alive, yeah.”  
  
“Then he’ll come after me again,” Webby said softly.  
  
“You don’t know that,” Dewey interjected.  
  
“Yes, I do,” Webby snapped, not in the mood to be coddled.  
  
Violet frowned, looking at Lena and Dewey. “There’s something you neglected to tell me.”  
  
“It’s not important,” Lena said, brushing it off. She smoothed back Webby’s hair and then glared at her. “If we hadn’t brought you to the hospital when we had, you would’ve bled out.”  
  
“What aren’t you telling me?” Violet demanded, not one to be ignored.  
  
No one answered her which seemed to agitate her further. Violet growled, glancing from one person to another, before leaving the room to presumably ask Mrs. Beakley and the remaining triplets what had transpired. Webby doubted they’d tell her. She couldn’t remember whether they’d informed Violet that Webby had killed someone or much beyond how she’d gotten the wound in her side. No wonder Violet was vexed.  
  
“You scared the shit out of us,” Dewey said and sat on the bed beside her. “We thought we were going to lose you.”  
  
“Seriously, what is with you and running off without telling anyone?” Lena scolded. “Next time, I don’t care if you think you’re protecting us by not telling us, we’re coming along. You need someone to cover your back, Webs, and you’re stupid if you think otherwise. And I know while you can be remarkably stupid about certain things, like romance, this isn’t an area you normally have trouble with. We’re a team, pink. And teams don’t split up and run off when their life is on the line. Got it?”  
  
Webby nodded or tried to. Her head moved slightly up and down on her neck. That was probably the best she was going to do right now.  
  
“The adults have a little more information on the FOWL heads, but they aren’t sharing it with us,” Dewey commented, frowning. “I think they were waiting for you to wake up.”  
  
“I don’t know where they got it from. But then again, they have better intel than we do,” Lena added. She leaned forward and kissed Webby on the forehead. Webby pulled at her shirt and when Lena moved back, she lacked the ability to compel her to stay, but Lena got the hint. She brushed her beak against Webby’s. When she pulled away, Webby spied tears in Lena’s eyes and guilt swamped her.  
  
“Dewey’s right,” Lena said softly after they’d broken off the kiss. “You terrified us.”  
  
“You’re not going anywhere now, not until those stitches heal,” Dewey added and squeezed her hand. “You’re staying right here, where we can keep an eye on you.”  
  
She had a weird sense of deja vu like she’d heard this before in another place, at another time. She shuddered. Just because she was in the hospital didn’t mean she was safe from FOWL. If anything, they could pick her off at their leisure because she couldn’t defend herself. Even with Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck protecting her, not to mention her grandmother, she didn’t feel secure.  
  
“They could attack me while I’m stuck here,” she pointed out.  
  
“Or they could leave you alone and lull you into a false sense of security,” Dewey said and the girls shot him a scathing look. He winced. “I’m only saying that it’s possible; whatever would keep you on your toes.”  
  
“You’d be expecting an attack,” Lena agreed, albeit reluctantly. “It’d make more sense to pull back now and hold off, assessing your defenses.”  
  
Webby gawked at her.  
  
“Magica would’ve done that,” Lena admitted, shame-faced. “And Magica is technically part of FOWL.”  
  
So she’d be granted a short reprieve, the theory was. And then she’d be thrown right back into the thick of it. Webby wished she could spring out of bed and combat the villains herself, but she couldn’t shift into a sitting position, much less an offensive stance. Sagging on her bed, she glanced from Lena and Dewey and back again.  
  
“What is it?” Dewey asked.  
  
“I hate feeling so helpless,” she growled. “What if they go after you guys because I’m out of commission? Especially if, as you say, Magica’s part of FOWL.”  
  
Lena twirled her floof around her finger in agitation. Thinking about her “aunt” was enough to set off her anxiety and Webby felt guilty.  
  
“We have to be prepared for anything,” Lena said after a painful, protracted silence. “But if you’re the true target, they won’t attack us until they know you can act.”  
  
The others entered the room and Mrs. Beakley raised her eyebrows at Webby.  
  
“We need to have a discussion about your behavior, Webbigail,” she said, which was how she knew she was in more trouble than she’d thought. Webby grimaced, looking down at the bed. She thought she liked it better when Lena and Dewey were scolding her instead.  
  
Mrs. Beakley shooed the others out of the room (Louie groused) and then she sat beside Webby on the nearby chair. Perhaps she feared that the bed wouldn’t bear her weight. She was no spring chicken, after all.  
  
“I’m worried about you,” she said quietly and held Webby’s hand. “I lost Vera this way. I couldn’t take it if anything happened to you.”  
  
“I know,” Webby said, staring at the bedspread again. Her grandmother seldom mentioned her mother; Webby had presumed long ago that it was too painful. She’d never pushed because her grandmother was formidable and always had been. It was hard to think of her as growing frail, because in her mind, her grandmother was undefeatable.  
  
“We’ve dug up more information about the FOWL heads,” her grandmother continued. “They’re all crime lords that went underground decades ago. They’ve been running FOWL for longer than I’ve been Black Heron’s nemesis. Steelbeak is their figurehead, but that’s all he is. He’s not running anything. Taurus Bulba, known as the Steerminator now, refused to work for them and has disappeared--Darkwing and Gosalyn believe he’s been destroyed permanently.  
  
“Before they vanished, if our suspicions are true, they committed mass murder. SHUSH was established to combat them; before them, people would vanish without a trace and there was nothing anyone could do. They would think nothing of killing a child.”  
  
Webby wanted to interject she wasn’t a child. She was a teenager and hearing that she was a child was offensive. However, that wasn’t the point of this discussion. She’d keep her indignation to herself.  
  
“I can’t stop them from coming after you,” her grandmother admitted and sounded her age.  
  
“Lena and Dewey think they’ll hold off until I recover.”  
  
“They’re probably right. There’s not much sport in attacking someone when they’re down. Besides, if they want to test you, they want to ensure you’re capable of withstanding the test.”  
  
Her grandmother frowned. “They’re toying with you. I don’t know if they intend…”  
  
She shook her head and swallowed convulsively. “Please promise me that if you know they’re nearby, you’ll bring someone with you. If Lena hadn’t found you…”  
  
“I know,” she murmured.  
  
“Lena’s a good person, even if she didn’t necessarily start out that way.”  
  
Webby looked up, puzzled.  
  
“You think I don’t know that she’s in love with you? I’m not oblivious, Webby. And on behalf of the people who love you, myself included, stop taking such foolish risks.  
  
“And if you’re going to do so anyway, at least take Lena, Dewey, and Violet.”  
  
Webby’s beak twitched toward a weak smile. That sounded like tacit approval to her.  
  
Her grandmother hugged her, careful not to upset her side. “I love you. I won’t let FOWL take you from me.”  
  
Again, Webby had that strange sense of deja vu but said nothing. She didn’t want to ruin the moment.  
  
“Can we come back in now?” Dewey asked, shifting from foot to foot nervously.  
  
“Yes,” Mrs. Beakley said. She gave Webby another squeeze and stepped back.  
  
“Now…” Mrs. Beakley said once everyone had re-entered. “We need to discuss strategy.”  
  


* * *

  
  
An orderly paid off by FOWL hung nearby Webbigail Vanderquack’s room and listened intently to whatever he could catch. He’d bring the information back to his masters and they would plan accordingly. The most dangerous of Webby’s friends would, of course, have to be dealt with. Lena de Spell and Violet Sabrewing, “Team Magic”, would need to be neutralized post haste.  
  
And, of course, Agent 22. She’d been at liberty for far too long.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen behind the scenes and wear Webby's resistance down further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I'm posting this here, as well as on my other fanfics. I'm going on a hiatus. I need to focus on my original works and DuckTales fanfics are keeping me from doing that. I'll probably still update, but it won't be anywhere near as frequently. Maybe once every two to three weeks, once a month tops.

They were patient. After years of waiting for Webby to become a major player, they could afford to wait a few weeks for her to recover from their assault before renewing it. Besides, there wasn’t much sport in defeating an already weakened enemy. They wanted her at her best before launching another onslaught. And they also wanted her to know that they knew all about her friends and family.  
  


* * *

  
  
Four weeks had passed since her recovery and if Webby had thought she would be granted a reprieve, she was sadly mistaken. Instead, it felt like FOWL had sent the hounds of hell to dog her heels. Everywhere she went, their demons waged war. It wasn’t anything as overt as the previous attacks had been. No, in comparison, these were shots in the dark, narrow escapes that left her drained to the dregs. It was impossible to stay on guard forever and she feared when she faltered, FOWL would swoop in and hammer their point home.  
  
Their behavior had hardly gone unnoticed by Duckburg at large. Bystanders kept getting caught in the cross-hairs and, as was typical with FOWL plots, suffered because of it. Webby didn’t know what to do. They had brought Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck in to help, but it felt like someone was destined to get hurt regardless. They couldn’t protect everyone at once--they’d been fortunate last time that the stray bullet aimed in the cathedral during Sunday mass had only struck someone’s singing pet parakeet. Of course, the owner had been upset, particularly when the unfortunate creature had then spontaneously combusted and left the perplexed and disconcerted owner with ash in their hands. Oops.  
  
It wasn’t her fault that FOWL had attacked the cathedral, thereby forcing her and Duckburg’s two superheroes to arrive and save the day. However, it wasn’t until Scrooge begrudgingly offered recompense for what the owner insisted was a “pedigree parakeet” that the owner sang a different tune. Webby’s nerves, already strung to the breaking point, had nearly shattered over the sheer stupidity of it all. She had needed to preclude herself from the discussion lest she react uncontrollably and possibly ruin their tentative agreement.  
  
It was so stupid. FOWL was randomly attacking civilians and that duck had been fixated upon its infernal parakeet. As far as Webby was concerned, the bird could go to perdition for all she cared. Didn’t the owner see what was going on here? No, of course not.  
  
Right now, Webby paced in front of the cathedral with her brothers, boyfriend, and girlfriend nearby. Violet was sketching the cathedral and sitting astride a cement bench. Occasionally, she cast glances at the others, particularly Webby. The cathedral was a historical landmark and, as a result, the Sunday mass here had been an unusual occurrence, perhaps why FOWL had targeted it. No one in the McDuck Manor household was particularly religious; this attack must’ve been to drag Webby out from hiding. FOWL didn’t dare attack the manor directly, so they forced Webby’s hand.  
  
“You’re running yourself ragged, pink,” Lena warned. The DPD were taking statements and their group stood off to the side to avoid getting in the way. However, M’ma Cabrera had warned them that they shouldn’t go too far, in case they had more questions. Webby let out a breath slowly through her clenched beak.  
  
“It’s not my fault,” Webby snapped and Lena held up her hands.  
  
“I didn’t say it was,” she said softly in a cajoling tone. “FOWL needs to take a break. They’ve been doing what? An attack a day?”  
  
“Two sometimes,” Webby muttered. Dewey moved behind her and hugged her. He rested his hands on her waist and although Mrs. Beakley, who was standing with M’ma and helping her interrogate people, cast them a quick frown, she didn’t comment. As a former spy, Mrs. Beakley still had considerable clout and talent ferrying out troublemakers. Webby didn’t expect them to find anyone here connected with the assassin that had come in through the rafters and started shooting smoke bombs. Save for that random bullet that had caused the bird to spontaneously combust, no serious injuries had been reported. She didn’t even know what the point of this was, besides making themselves a royal nuisance.  
  
“They waited until I had recovered so my guard was down and now, I can barely breathe,” Webby muttered, speaking to no one in particular. She just needed to vent. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks. Dewey held her tighter and, seeing as Mrs. B was otherwise occupied, he moved to her side and pecked her on the beak. She kissed him back and reached out for Lena to prevent her from feeling left out.  
  
“Probably because they want you to think that all of these annoying little attacks are it,” Violet commented, unperturbed by romantic activity around her. She hopped off the bench and met Webby’s eye when she broke off the kiss with Dewey.  
  
“They’re saving up for something big,” Huey agreed.  
  
“But what?” Webby said, clenching her fists and inadvertently crushing Lena’s hand. Lena yelped, pulling her hand back before Webby hurt her.  
  
“Jeez, pink,” she muttered. “I think you forget how strong you are.”  
  
“Sorry,” Webby mumbled. She wished she had an inkling of what the perpetrators looked like. More than ever, she wished she could pursue them herself and leave the others out of this. FOWL wanted her to know that everyone injured or maimed in these proceedings were on her head. Fine. She got it. Couldn’t they leave well enough alone?  
  
Tense, she pivoted and disliked the looks Lena and Violet exchanged. Her best friends were worried about her, then. So be it. They were the ones getting targeted too. Last week, someone had aimed a warning shot at Violet’s tail from the park bushes. The week before that, someone had sent Lena a suspicious note armed with magic bearing Magica’s signature. Dewey had almost been scalped during an adventure the week prior to that and Huey and Louie had nearly fallen into a ravine. Yet the attacks on her had stopped. She was waiting for the second shoe to drop. Sooner or later, someone would approach her with an offer to make all of the attacks stop and all she needed to do was turn herself in. The others would argue vociferously against it and she’d find a way to sneak out and do it anyway. This couldn’t continue. She couldn’t let other people get hurt for her sake. Even if it was a stinking bird.  
  
She was so tired that thinking was difficult and she caught herself staring blank-eyed at the cathedral’s spire. She could almost imagine gargoyles atop it awakening at night to protect the city. That had been a Disney cartoon, hadn’t it? Demona and Goliath and Brooklyn and Lexington…  
  
She swayed on her feet and would have fallen if Dewey hadn’t braced her. She offered him a weak smile.  
  
“You’re spreading yourself too thin,” Violet scolded.  
  
“The JWG says constant exposure to stress--” Huey started and Webby glowered.  
  
“Can wear someone down? I hadn’t noticed,” she snapped.  
  
“I don’t understand why the DPD can’t handle this. Or SHUSH,” Louie said and then amended his statement. “Or whatever’s left of SHUSH. They went underground, didn’t they? But most of them are still alive, aren’t they?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Webby admitted, shamefaced. After Darkwing’s discovery attempts to locate the missing agents had failed. No one knew where they were and wherever that might be, it was well underground. Webby had since given up hope of SHUSH reaching out to them. They were on their own.  
  
“This is their problem,” Louie persisted. “SHUSH was founded to stop FOWL. How can they just leave you high and dry?”  
  
“I don’t know!” she snapped, exhaustion and frustration taking its toll. Lena smoothed back Webby’s hair and although she allowed it, she felt like snapping at her too. Distantly, she was aware something was badly wrong if she didn’t want Lena to touch her. Lena initiated physical contact so seldom that repudiating her would probably greatly hurt her, not to mention discourage her from doing so in the future.  
  
“The JWG,” Huey continued, oblivious to Webby’s waspish behavior or perhaps in spite of it, “suggests you take time to meditate. Or let someone else handle the problem for a while. Webby, Violet’s right. You’re spreading yourself too thin.”  
  
“I’m--” she stopped. She’d been about to say ‘fine’, except it was glaringly obvious to everyone present that she wasn’t. Plus, she couldn’t bring herself to lie that much. Her step faltered and she collapsed onto the concrete bench Violet had vacated. Why couldn’t someone else handle this? True, it wasn’t the DPD’s job, but she was exhausted. Any demands FOWL made after this would seem reasonable by comparison. Anything except this constant assault on her senses, her guards, and her friends and family. Anything but this.  
  
M’ma Cabrera came over with Gizmoduck at her side. Even though Fenton had a habit of blurting out his not-so-secret identity to Duckburg at large, it had still taken him years to come to his mother about it. By then, of course, she’d already figured it out, as had most of the city. Fenton wasn’t exactly subtle. Still, his mother supported him, which was the important thing. Normally, Webby would’ve rallied seeing them, but she was too drained to attempt it.  
  
“You need some rest,” M’ma Cabrera said and sat beside Webby on the bench. “You look like a strong breeze could blow you over, querida.”  
  
“I’m--” Webby stifled a yawn and groaned. “I can’t rest. What if Duckburg gets attacked again and I’m sleeping? Or if…”  
  
She trailed off, her imagination failing her. M’ma Cabrera put her hands on Webby’s shoulders.  
  
“What if Duckburg gets attacked and you are too tired to defend yourself, let alone it? You cannot keep this up. Let us handle things for a little while, novia.”  
  
“We’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Huey reassured the police chief. Webby looked at M’ma desperately. She needed her to understand that she couldn’t stop, couldn’t possibly let someone else take over. What if they died or hurt themselves because of her? What if she couldn’t stop them? Webby’s eyelids fluttered and she sagged on the bench. Dewey steadied her.  
  
“Good,” M’ma Cabrera said and then smiled brightly at Mrs. Beakley, who was approaching them. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night?”  
  
“We should be,” Mrs. Beakley said and frowned at her granddaughter. “Webbigail…”  
  
“I know. I know.” Webby didn’t know what she was supposed to be reacting to. Her eyelids fluttered again and she realized she was on the brink of passing out. Someone would need to bring her to the limo and then probably tuck her in. She cursed inwardly, despite her fatigue still too intimidated by both older women to swear aloud.  
  
“We’ll talk later,” M’ma said to Mrs. Beakley and she nodded. Webby’s vision faded in and out. Oh, yes, passing out was definitely in the cards. She reluctantly stopped fighting it and let Dewey catch her before she hit the ground.

* * *

  
  
When she awoke, it was to discover a cloaked figure in her room. She opened her mouth to scream and the figure sneered, standing at the foot of her bed.  
  
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he said. His voice was hoarse as if roughened through too much cigarette smoke. “Your friends and family are nearby and we wouldn’t want there to be any unfortunate accidents.”  
  
She tensed. “What do you want?”  
  
“I don’t suppose you know what your parents were planning when they perished under such unfortunate circumstances?” he queried. He was covered head to toe in black and only his eyes glittered, cold and malicious. Webby shivered despite herself.  
  
“They were investigating FOWL.”  
  
The figure probably knew already anyway. She wasn’t sure whether he was testing her or if he had a point. She was too tired to spring to her feet and attack him, which they both knew. Even while lying down, her head was spinning.  
  
“A dangerous pastime for a young couple, wasn’t it? With such a regrettable outcome.”  
  
His cryptic talk irritated her, but she had enough presence of mind and rest to hold her tongue. Instead, she watched as the figure sauntered about her room as if he owned it. Ire rose and she squashed it down. The figure stopped at the head of her bed and picked up a photograph of “Team Magic”, herself, Violet, and Lena. He put the frame back down after a moment’s perusal.  
  
“Surely someone as intelligent as you would like to know what led to their demise. What they discovered, perhaps?” Though she couldn’t see it, she had the sense the figure was arching its eyebrows at her.  
  
“You need to leave my friends and family alone,” she snapped.  
  
The figure leaned down and cupped her chin his gloved hand. His black eyes promised death, slow and painful, but not for her. For the ones she cared about. Shuddering, she wrenched away and he held tighter, turning her head this way and that as if examining a horse for the market.  
  
“We have not come to the manor because it did not suit us. Not because we couldn’t. Black Heron penetrated the Manor’s security with aplomb. So can we. We can come here any time, day or night, and will pay you a little visit.”  
  
The figure released her and then, beneath his veil, she sensed him smiling.  
  
“However, if you wish this to stop, for all of the senseless violence to cease, you have but to say the word.”  
  
“And what would that be?” she snapped, hatred swelling in her chest.  
  
“Why, we’ll show you exactly what your parents were working on,” he replied. “And then we’ll see whether you can escape. The longer you think about this, the worse the consequences for your loved ones.”  
  
  
He pulled out a sword and casually sharpened it with a small stone. “Lena de Spell, for instance. We know her ‘aunt’. It seems Magica has quite the ax to grind against you and the shadow.  
  
“Or should we mention your so-called brothers? It wouldn’t be so hard to make their mother disappear again, more permanently this time.”  
  
Webby felt a sensation like ice slide down her back. Her blood churned slowly as if it had frozen and her throat was tight. When she didn’t speak, the figure continued.  
  
“Your grandmother’s been through a lot of SHUSH missions, hasn’t she? Be a shame if she finally met her match. She is, after all, your only biological family left.”  
  
The figure patted her on the head condescendingly. “Give it a thought, Webbigail. I’ll give you 24 hours. If by then you still haven’t made up your mind, you might want to pay your friend Violet Sabrewing a visit too. To see what’s left of her.  
  
“And if I were you, I would strongly reconsider telling anyone about this offer. Accidents happen.”  
  
The figure withdrew, sneering, and vanished into thin air. Webby shuddered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering, and hugged herself. If FOWL could appear and disappear at will, then the manor wasn’t safe. Nowhere was safe if they could track her or her friends down. She’d have to do what they asked. Her friends and family would have a conniption.  
  
Her throat burned and her stomach flip-flopped. She was suddenly nauseated. If FOWL knew her friends by name, then they knew where they lived. Threatening Della Duck was probably a good way to bring Scrooge down on FOWL like a hammer on an incredibly stupid nail, but Webby didn’t doubt that they could do it, make Della disappear. She’d feel awful if she was the reason the triplets lost their mother.  
  
What was she supposed to do? Uncle Scrooge didn’t keep security cameras in their rooms, as far as she knew, but it didn’t matter, not if FOWL could render themselves invisible at any time. Oh god, she really was going to be sick. She clutched her stomach and stared around her.  
  
How had FOWL known her friends would be out? Or had they arranged that? She needed to investigate the situation for herself, but she didn’t trust her legs to support her. Instead, she pulled out her phone from her hip pocket. Then she let it drop on the floor.  
  
Someone had smashed the screen to bits and the back as well so that only the W was visible and even that, just barely. Clutching her stomach, she rushed for the nearest bathroom and threw up. When she was finished and cleaned her mouth out, she stared at herself in the mirror. What had her parents done that had shaken the hornets’ nest? Why was FOWL so peeved about it, years later? And why were they determined to punish her for what her parents had done?  
  
As soon as she was able, she wandered through the halls in search of someone. It was a big manor, true, but she normally encountered someone within a few minutes. Even Duckworth was absent, which she considered ominous. Where was everyone?  
  
She’d scooped up her broken phone without realizing it and stared at the screen, which flickered balefully. She shoved the cell back into her pocket, even if it was useless now. Her heart thudded. Nowhere was safe and no one was here, not as she could see.  
  
She stopped in the kitchen to determine what was going on and saw a calendar hanging near the pantry. Relief swamped her and she had to sit down before her legs fell out from under her. It was Bin-ventory Day. That explained the boys, Scrooge, and possibly Della too. Her grandmother could be anywhere in the manor or she could have gone out. Technically, Lena lived here too. She should have thought to look for her first instead of wandering aimlessly.  
  
Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Despite the rest she knew she must’ve gotten, she felt no more energized than before. If anything, she felt worse.  
  
Her mind kept returning to the same essential question. Why had her parents kicked the hornets’ nest? What was so important that they had risked their lives and hers?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still on that hiatus. XD So the updates will be at least every two weeks, possibly every three. Working on my novel(s). Wish I had feedback on those, though.
> 
> Catch me on fictionpress.com for what I've been working on besides fanfics! Same penname. :P Can't hyperlink here, unfortunately.

Webby was quiet when Dewey and Lena visited her a couple of hours later. She didn’t eat her soup but pushed the pieces around in the bowl. Her gaze was rooted to the soup as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever encountered and she hadn’t looked up at them at all. Lena was concerned. A quiet Webby was alarming. A quiet Webby that didn’t make eye contact or eat was worse. She knew these past few weeks had been rough on all of them, but Webby’s sudden withdrawal unnerved her.  
  
“Hey, pink,” Lena said and nudged her knee. They were sitting on the floor again in Webby’s room; they weren’t sure she felt up to eating in the dining room. Webby’s gaze flicked to her but didn’t rise as far as her eyes. Lena suppressed a frustrated sigh.  
  
“Something happened,” Lena said. “Something happened between when we brought you home and now.”  
  
Webby didn’t respond, not even to deny it. Instead, she half-shrugged.  
  
“Okay, Webby, you’ve gotta be a lot more communicative than that,” Lena said.  
  
“Seriously,” Dewey said. “We’re worried about you.”  
  
Webby shrugged again and put the bowl of soup back on its tray. She said quietly, “I’m not hungry.”  
  
Huey would have told her that she needed to eat. Lena wasn’t that pushy but her concern threatened to get the better of her. She lifted Webby’s head to focus on her and Webby flinched. Lena flinched back, shocked. No one had ever raised a hand to Webby in her life. Webby never flinched at physical contact. Never. What was going on?  
  
Lena and Dewey exchanged unhappy glances.  
  
“Did someone show up?” Dewey said and Webby’s beak tightened.  
  
“Lemme guess--someone showed up and threatened everyone you love and care about until you agreed to do something stupid,” Lena snapped, unable to restrain her temper. “Pink, you have to tell us these things.”  
  
“No, I don’t,” Webby said. She was pale and swayed when she rose to her feet. “It’s for your own protection.”  
  
Lena knew Webby didn’t lie. Couldn’t, actually. Her attempts to lie were usually pathetic and laughable. Louie had tried, over the years, to teach her, with limited success. The problem was that Webby didn’t want to deceive people. So lying by speech was out. The only way to lie, then, was by omission. And she was doing that now.  
  
“Who did they threaten?” Dewey asked.  
  
Stony silence greeted his question. Webby was determined to keep them out and Lena was just as determined to force her way through. Normally, she wouldn’t have bullied into something private, but this was hurting her. Webby had a tendency to keep dangerous, painful things to herself to spare others. It was part of what simultaneously Lena loved and hated about her. She cared so much that it could be agonizing.  
  
“Us, blue,” Lena said. “They threatened us. Am I right, pink?”  
  
“I can handle this,” Webby said.  
  
“Bullshit,” Lena snapped. “You’re barely holding it together.”  
  
“I’m doing fine!” Webby snapped, color rushing to her cheeks. She glared down at them and Lena sprang to her feet as well. If Webby wanted to play this game, then Lena wasn’t going to indulge her. She was “fine” as well as Lena was after Magica’s psychological torment.  
  
“No offense, Webs, but you’re not,” Dewey said.  
  
“My parents handled it!” Webby snapped.  
  
An awkward silence fell. No one wanted to state the obvious. Webby lowered her head in submission. She didn’t really want to fight them. She was just afraid and lashing out. Lena knew that feeling all too well. She hugged Webby tightly and Webby hugged her back.  
  
“He said they’d kill Della, Granny, and you,” Webby admitted reluctantly, pressing her face into Lena’s shoulder.  
  
“Mom? They’d go after Mom?” Dewey asked.  
  
“Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you?” Webby said and shot a glare at Lena that disappeared quickly. “You already lost your mom once. It’d be my fault if you lost her again.”  
  
“No, it’d be FOWL’s fault,” Lena corrected. “And pink, why didn’t you go to Scrooge first thing? Anyone threatening his family is bound to piss him off. He’d go into overdrive mode to stop them.”  
  
“He said ‘accidents happen’,” she said quietly. “Like if I told you, then their lives would already be forfeit.”  
  
“Webby…” Lena said and stroked her cheek. Webby sighed, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed Lena on the beak. Lena leaned down and kissed her back. She was holding onto too much. No wonder she was suffering. Her heart went out to her.  
  
“His life is gonna be forfeit once Uncle Scrooge finds out,” Dewey said and his eyes flashed. He hugged Webby too. “You can’t handle all of this on your own. You almost died twice when you tried. We love you. We don’t want anything to happen to you.”  
  
“And before you say it, I know you don’t want anything to happen to us, either,” Lena added once she broke off the kiss with Webby. Webby sighed and exhausted tears filled her eyes. They hugged her tighter.  
  
“But how did they get in?” Webby asked and they sat down on Webby’s bed. Dewey and Lena kept their arms around her.  
  
“I don’t know,” Lena said, scowling, “but that’ll be the last time they do. We’re telling Uncle Scrooge. Now.”  
  
She grabbed Webby by the hand and Dewey grabbed her other hand. Together, they formed a chain that moved down the ladder, only releasing hands so they could climb down. Lena couldn’t help stealing worried glances at Webby. How long had she planned on keeping this to herself? How could she possibly think that would help anyone?  
  
They found Uncle Scrooge in his office glowering at his flip-phone. That thing was so old it was practically prehistoric. Then again, so was Scrooge McDuck, so Lena guessed it stood to reason. He looked up when they entered and shoved the phone aside on his desk.  
  
“Blasted thing,” he said. “What is it, kids?’  
  
Webby’s beak was clenched tight and Dewey seemed to be thinking about something, perhaps his mother in peril, which meant it was up to Lena to deliver the bad news. Hopefully, “don’t shoot the messenger” applied here. She wished that his security center was located in his office too so she could point out where she thought Webby’s room was bugged. Her feathers bristled.  
  
“It seems like FOWL paid Webby a little visit earlier,” Lena said. “And threatened me, Della, and Mrs. Beakley.”  
  
Scrooge was up and out of his seat in an instant. “They threatened Della?”  
  
“That’s what Webby told me. And we both know she’s a terrible liar,” Lena said.  
  
Scrooge was already enraged at the mere thought of someone attacking his niece. She knew he cared about her and Mrs. B too, but his primary concern was Della since he’d raised her. She was like a daughter to him and he’d already lost her once to the Spear of Selene. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her again, not if he could stop it. She read the determination writ large on his face.  
  
“She told us she could handle it,” Dewey scoffed. “She can’t handle it. None of us can handle it.”  
  
“I can handle it,” Scrooge said darkly. “I have more experience than you lot dealing with egomaniacal villains.”  
  
“We don’t even know who they are,” Webby said quietly. She was still holding Lena’s and Dewey’s hands. “Or where they are.”  
  
“They bugged Webby’s room,” Lena said. She frowned. “Who do we know that has loose morals and no compunctions about tracing back an attack?”  
  
“Louie?” Webby said and frowned too. “The last time he went after FOWL, it didn’t go well.”  
  
“No, not Louie,” Scrooge said. His eyes flashed. “We cannae risk leaving this to amateurs. We need to bring in McDuck Industries to ferret them out. Mark my words, they will be sorry they ever threatened the McDuck clan!”  
  
“Okay, I’ve marked your words, but how do you plan to keep them out of the manor when they’ve already gotten in?” Dewey replied. “How can we protect everyone and not keep them penned up in here?”  
  
“Gizmoduck’s helpful, but he can’t be here 24/7,” Lena added. “We need something better than the DT-87 security system. It wasn’t enough.”  
  
“Aye, I see that now,” Scrooge said. “Donnae worry. I’ll come up with something.”  
  
Webby released their hands to ball her fists. “They’re going to go after you now that I’ve told you.”  
  
“You couldn’t keep this to yourself, pink,” Lena objected. “You’ve tried taking them on by yourself and nearly died twice.”  
  
“Just like my parents,” Webby said and everyone felt the sting of her words.  
  
“All the more reason not to keep it to yourself,” Scrooge said and put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll figure out who’s behind this, lass. They cannae hide forever. And they’ve made a dangerous enemy.”  
  
Webby’s gaze remained hooked onto the floor.  
  
“Donnae worry,” Scrooge repeated. “I’ll get it all under control. You recover from their last stunt and we’ll talk strategy later. I need to talk to Beakley, Gyro, Fenton, and the others anyway.”  
  
“Ye’re gonna worry anyway, aren’t ye?” Scrooge said when Webby didn’t respond. He sighed. “Lassie, ye’re making this harder on yourself.”  
  
“I have to find out what killed my parents,” Webby said, lifting her head.  
  
“Not at the expense of your life,” Dewey objected. He took her hands. “Webby, I know you’re upset. And worried. And maybe freaking out a little. But you’re not alone. We’ve told you that. And we don’t want anything to happen to you. I love you, okay?”  
  
Webby looked taken aback, as did Lena. Where had that come from? It felt like it’d been out of the left field.  
  
Scrooge looked from Webby to Lena to Dewey and back again. He shook his head ruefully. “Ye’ve got yer hands full, lass. Ye donnae need any more trouble on top of it. I’ll take care of it.”  
  
Webby pursed her beak like she wanted to believe Scrooge but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.  
  
“We’ll figure something out,” Lena promised. “Hold your horses, pink.”  
  
Webby nodded, but Lena knew she wasn’t convinced. She also knew there was little she could do about it.  
  


* * *

  
  
So the little wretch had broken her word. He couldn’t say he was surprised, especially considering the sway the shadow girl and the Duck boy had over her. Then again, FOWL had also worn her resistance down. Nonetheless, he was disappointed. He’d need to show her what happened when she didn’t play by the rules.  
  
He watched McDuck Manor closely. Della Duck spent a lot of time out of doors, particularly since returning to Earth from her sojourn on the moon. Right now, she was dragging her twin brother along with her to a comic book store, despite both of them being too old for it. He frowned, stroking his beak contemplatively. It wouldn’t be difficult to take a shot at her metal leg. Or use a magnet and cripple her. Hell, she was already halfway there.  
  
From his vantage point near McDuck Manor, he could have employed a team of assassins to bring Della low. However, he preferred a different approach. Instead, he decided to lay in wait near the comic book store. He signaled for his backup to bring a large magnet and, if they couldn’t do that, to try to saw her metal leg off. He wasn’t picky.  
  
He couldn’t believe Scrooge McDuck had permitted his niece to walk about after Webby had blabbed. Unless...he frowned again, scratching the feathers atop his head. The shadow girl could do magic, yes? Could she create illusions? But, no, Della and Donald seemed very real...and he didn’t see Lena anywhere about.  
  
Of course, her absence might be conspicuous too. He didn’t know what to make of this situation.  
  
Thus far, Della and Donald didn’t act like they were being spied upon. They continued arguing, Della shaking her metal appendage for emphasis. Once, she stopped to glance around and seemed to look directly at the alley where he was hiding. Then she looked away, her lower beak curling in disgust.  
  
From across the street, he couldn’t read beaks, so he had no idea what they were saying. They weren’t facing in his direction, either.  
  
He scowled, letting his mind drift toward the logistics of moving a giant magnet, large enough to rip Della’s leg off and hobble her. You couldn’t really move it without it being noticed. That would eliminate the element of surprise, which was problematic.  
  
A large truck containing the magnet pulled up in front of the comic book store. It looked like a garbage truck, assuaging his fears that it might be too obvious. Hmm, FOWL worked fast. Then again, if they hadn’t, he would have had their jobs nixed...and their lives as well. FOWL’s men had implanted in the city for months now waiting for the right moment to strike.  
  
The magnet thudded and he watched as it shot out of the garbage truck’s bed. Thus far, he’d had no real difficulty running Duckburg as he’d wanted. It was pathetic how little resistance he’d encountered, really. It was almost like they didn’t care what befell them. Their superheroes weren’t worthy of the title. As for Webbigail Vanderquack, perhaps this would convince her to keep her beak shut.  
  
He’d kill her sooner or later, of course, but the toying was the fun part. When he grew bored of that, he’d bring the hammer down. That family had never been fated to live long, anyway. If you looked at it a certain way, he was doing the world a favor. They knew too much and stuck their beaks where they didn’t belong. No one liked nosy ducks. They asked too many questions.  
  
The magnet clicked into action and Della’s leg flew off. She screamed and fell over, latching onto Donald to prevent face planting onto the cement. He scooped her up and his face went from its normal white coloration to bright red. He put Della safely onto a nearby bench and stomped up and down, practically spitting in rage.  
  
Huh. There’d been blood when the magnet had wrenched Della’s leg off. That was interesting. The female duck was now bleeding.  
  
Donald didn’t head for the garbage truck, however. Instead, he stormed around the corner and the FOWL agent’s eyes met Donald’s. He didn’t have time to reach for his gun before the younger duck sprang into action, pummeling him and kicking at him. Well, that was fine. Sure, he’d be a bit banged up and worse for the wear, but the other FOWL agents could handle a crippled woman, couldn’t they?  
  
Unfortunately, from where he was, he couldn’t tell what was going on with Della, but he had to assume the FOWL agents had the upper hand. She couldn’t stand on her own two feet. What were the chances that she’d be able to fend for herself?  
  


* * *

  
  
Contrary to what the FOWL agent might have thought, Della knew perfectly well what was going on. That didn’t stop her from being pissed off that she’d literally had her feet yanked out from under her. It was a lousy, cheap trick and she resented it. Right now, the other half of her leg was attached to a giant magnet and no amount of hopping was going to retrieve it. Donald was apoplectic with rage, not that she blamed him. She was in the same boat.  
  
Her brother made short work of the goon menacing her and then turned on the other two agents. Della wished she had her uncle’s cane, but a concealed weapon would do in a pinch. Uncle Scrooge had specifically warned her that they might use a magnet to steal away her leg, so he’d provided her with a hard plastic weapon. The second device he’d given her expanded into a crutch, so she hobbled around, waving her baton and snarling threats and invectives to anyone within earshot.  
  
Seriously, who the hell did that? She was going to break someone’s skull for this.  
  
While Donald turned into a blur, she wielded her baton and swung at a goon’s face. He ducked back; the goon had the advantage, seeing as he had both legs. That only infuriated her more. She was so furious now she was seeing red. Using her crutch, she whacked him across the face and followed up with the baton. Then, overbalancing, she would have crashed to the ground if Donald hadn’t caught her at the last second.  
  
“Thanks,” she said and he nodded, sparing her a second’s glance before springing back into action.  
  
Their unfettered rage had permitted them to make short work of the goons, leaving only the main culprit, who had been hiding in an alley. His gun was locked and loaded, pointing firmly at Della’s chest.  
  
“Not one step further,” the man snarled. He was thin and lanky, for a duck, with brown bangs that fell nearly into his eyes. Besides the gun he wielded, he also carried a dagger and a few vials of something Della had to assume was poisonous.  
  
It only stoked her rage to new heights. This asshole thought he could intimidate her just to hurt Webby, the girl two of her boys considered their sister and one of them had fallen in love with. Webby was an innocent child (well, okay, not so innocent after having killed someone, but her point remained). FOWL had no right to put her through the wringer.  
  
Cooler heads would have prevailed, but both Duck twins were in a fine fury now, shaking and with their fists balled. Della was leaning on her crutch and Donald moved; the FOWL agent shot at him, missed, and then aimed again. In the time it took him to do that, Donald had tackled him about the waist and kicked the gun out of his hands. Della limped over and pressed her crutch into the goon’s throat.  
  
Donald had disabled him, but he hadn’t thought to remove his weapons. Temper will do that to you. The man sliced at Della’s remaining leg and put weight behind it, causing her to fall over. She cried out, unable to arrest her fall, and Donald charged him, ignoring whatever pain the man inflicted. Della couldn’t see. The man had knocked her crutch away and without anything to use to help herself up, she was helpless as a turtle on its back. She cursed. It was, sadly, her only recourse.  
  
Rolling around, she attempted to get her feet underneath her only to realize she couldn’t stand on her remaining leg. She crashed again, impotent rage competing with that feeling of powerlessness she thought she’d overcome. She felt so useless without her mechanical leg.  
  
She couldn’t see anything and could only hear the scuffle. Donald was squawking like mad and Della looked up. Any time now…  
  
“Enough!”  
  
A pink skirted figure sailed through the air and landed beside Donald and his opponent. Webby. Della smiled as the girl pressed a dagger of her own against the man’s throat.  
  
“Start talking,” Webby spat.  
  
In case the dagger wasn’t enough to convince the man to behave, Lena emerged, albeit in a far less dramatic fashion, from within the comic book store. Her magic held the man in place and her eyes were closed to focus better.  
  
Violet emerged too and rushed to help Della to her feet. It’d almost been a successful ambush, save for Della losing her limb. She was too embarrassed to be angry now. Shame flushed her features and she stared at Webby threatening the older FOWL agent.  
  
Webby’s next sentence was low, almost inaudible.  
  
“No one messes with my family or friends and gets away with it.”


	9. Hold On, Hold On, Hold On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author actually forgot that she used to update on Saturdays. I have been working on my novel (and forgetting to post that too), but I do have updates this week. Yay!

For a moment, no one moved. Webby pressed the blade tighter into the villain’s throat and blood pooled on the dagger. It was a good thing that she’d hauled him back into the shadows or there would have been too many witnesses. She didn’t know whether he’d answer her questions, however. FOWL must have trained its agents to resist torture. It was a matter of whether the training took.  
  
“Who sent you?” she growled.  
  
Della hopped near her. Webby looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Without her mechanical leg, the woman looked lopsided. She also looked like she recognized the creep Webby held at knifepoint. Puzzled, she glanced at the duck she held captive to the boys’ mother and back. There was recognition in the villain’s eyes too.  
  
“You two know each other?” Webby asked. The man squirmed and she punched him in the throat. Gasping, jerking forward only to nearly sever his carotid artery on her knife, the duck fell still. There was a bigger mystery afoot now. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
“He’s the one who tampered with the Spear of Selene,” Della said and the others stared at her. Della bristled, feathers rustling. Her beak was clenched tight.  
  
“I thought a cosmic storm did that,” Webby said, wavering. She kept her foot on the man’s chest to prevent him from escaping, though he was still regaining his breath after her blow to the throat. She didn’t intend to let him catch his breath.  
  
“Yes and no,” Della said. “Part of the reason the Spear went down was the storm. The other part, the reason I took it, was because someone had messed with it to send anyone who piloted it down.”  
  
A protracted silence followed her statement. Donald was staring at her in shock and Webby was distantly glad the boys weren’t here. The duck beneath Webby’s foot struggled and Webby kicked him in the stomach.  
  
“You’re not making any sense,” Donald said at last.  
  
Della sighed. “The original intention was for Uncle Scrooge to take it out for a test run. We didn’t tell you--we knew you’d blow a fuse. You’re the responsible one. As soon as I realized that someone had messed with the instruments, I opted to go for the test run instead. The cosmic storm was a fluke; the ship would’ve gone down with or without it.”  
  
Webby could connect the dots, though she didn’t want to. It suggested someone deep within McDuck Industries was working with FOWL and had wanted Scrooge out of the way. Webby cringed. She wanted to reach out to reassure Della, but she didn’t dare shift her position. Lena approached, fists balled.  
  
“So you took the ship, knowing you might die,” Donald said slowly. “Knowing that it was intended to kill Uncle Scrooge.”  
  
He whirled on his twin. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Uncle Scrooge?”  
  
Della shook her head. “There wasn’t time. And after I got back to Earth, I thought that FOWL must’ve been rooted out of McDuck Industries by now. Or at least rendered inert.”  
  
“That would explain why McDuck Industries pulled the plug on Uncle Scrooge searching too hard for you…” Webby said quietly. “They didn’t want him looking too closely.”  
  
Della scowled at the reminder. “Yeah, something like that.”  
  
“But...that means FOWL is still in McDuck Industries…” Webby said, alarmed.  
  
The duck beneath her laughed. “How do you think we knew how to disable his security, little duckling? Or how we knew where you were in the manor? We helped designed DT-87. Of course we knew its shortcomings. We programmed them in.”  
  
The duck smiled beatifically. “But you’ll never find out who the real traitor is. They’re too well hidden.”  
  
Webby ground her foot into the man’s stomach. “Or you could tell me right now.”  
  
The duck bit down hard and Webby cursed. It was too late.  
  
“Cyanide capsule,” Della said dully. “He told us as much as he was going to.”  
  
The villain continued to smile until his chest ceased moving and he collapsed, death grabbing him in its embrace.  
  
“But they knew about him...and so did you…” Webby said, looking at Della. Della shook her head.  
  
“I only knew about that agent, the one you have,” Della said. “I couldn’t root out the real culprit.”  
  
“So that’s a dead-end,” Lena said, scowling.  
  
“They’ll make contact again,” Webby said quietly. “I broke their rules about telling someone. They’ll come after you again.”  
  
She glanced up to spy Lena using her amulet to bring Della’s leg back down from the magnet truck. With all of the FOWL agents out of commission, there was no one to impede her. Della hissed when she reattached her leg and blood seeped onto her pants. Webby’s eyes widened.  
  
“I cauterized the wound when I cut it off,” Della said. “And the flesh itself is callused over there. But when he ripped it off my leg, the force of it reopened the injury.”  
  
“You didn’t tell me you cut it off yourself!” Donald snapped.  
  
“Didn’t seem important at the time,” Della said with a shrug. “And you were off doing your own thing on the moon.”  
  
“You mean when the Spear launched me back to the moon,” Donald growled.  
  
Violet glanced over at the grunts Donald had taken care of. “They wouldn’t know anything, I’d presume.”  
  
“Probably not,” Della said, ignoring Donald’s glower. “I doubt they were told anything important.”  
  
“I know the feeling,” Donald snapped.  
  
“We have to tell Uncle Scrooge,” Webby said.  
  
“Maybe not such a good idea,” Della said. “Then that person in FOWL will know we’re onto him. He might get desperate and start doing stupid things.”  
  
She paused and added, “Stupider than pissing off the Duck twins.”  
  
“But if he or she knows we’re onto them, then they’ll make mistakes,” Webby pointed out. “They’ve been arrogant and overconfident. We need them to slip up.”  
  
“I just don’t want anything to happen to Uncle Scrooge as a result…” Della mused. “But we’ll go with your plan.”  
  
Webby nodded. “Do we have any idea who it could be?”  
  
“Well, as much as I hate Gyro, it’s not him,” Della said. “He’s loyal to my uncle to a fault. And it’s not Fenton. It has to be someone who’s been there since before the Spear was built.”  
  
“So we’ll need to go through the employee rolls and see who has had access to the Spear’s plans as well as who might have a shady past. Or one that looks good on paper but falls apart by questioning,” Violet mused.  
  
“Uncle Scrooge only has, like, a gazillion employees,” Della said with a groan. “That might take a while.”  
  
“There has to be a way to narrow it down further,” Webby said, frowning.  
  
“Maybe someone who worked for him, stopped, and then returned?” Violet suggested. “Who has unexplained absences?”  
  
“Maybe…” Della said, not sounding convinced.  
  
“We’d better go tell Scrooge,” Webby said. She hadn’t missed Donald giving his twin stink eye.  
  
They headed back to the limo, which Launchpad had tucked away on a street a couple of blocks away. As they walked, Della winced. The more she walked, the more she bled and Webby ordered a halt. Della was a trooper and determined not to let anyone see how much pain she was in, but there was no way she wasn’t feeling that. She didn’t want to slow them down by calling attention to it or make herself look weak.  
  
Della huffed. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”  
  
She took another step and her leg buckled underneath her. She cursed and glared at her leg. “Goddamn it! This fucking thing!”  
  
“FOWL plays dirty,” Violet said quietly. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
Della huffed. “I’m better than this. I’m Della Duck, and I don’t let little things stop me!”  
  
This time, when her leg buckled, she grabbed onto her brother and Donald just barely caught her. Blood was streaking down her leg now, and her pants were a sodden mess. Della was biting the inside of her cheek.  
  
“You need to go home,” Webby said quietly.  
  
Della sighed. “I’m better than this. I will limp to the limo before I let it slow me down.”  
  
“I would advise against putting more weight on that leg,” Violet murmured. “You risk aggravating the injury further.”  
  
Tears pricked the corners of Della’s eyes and she swiped at them. “Let go of me, Donald. I can walk.”  
  
“I’m carrying you,” he said, and she growled.  
  
“I. Can. Walk.”  
  
Webby winced. She knew this was humiliating for Della. She respected that she was forcing her way through, despite the pain, but there was a point where she needed to admit defeat. Della swallowed hard and Donald reluctantly released her. She staggered, dragging her leg behind her. She looked like a wounded animal searching for a place to hide.  
  
Launchpad must’ve seen them because he pulled the limo up closer. Della stumbled, and this time, no one rushed to her aid. It was important to her not to be seen as pitiful. Still, Webby wasn’t sure how long she could watch this. Della lurched to the limo, caught herself on the door, and Launchpad rushed to open it.  
  
“Della?” Launchpad asked, staring at her in confusion and worry.  
  
Della opened her mouth to retort, fell into the backseat instead, and her eyes rolled up in her head. She’d left a bloody trail behind her.  
  
“What happened?” Launchpad asked, staring at all of them in consternation.  
  
“It’s a long story,” Lena said. Donald buckled his sister in and frowned. It might’ve been a miracle her mechanical appendage had stayed on, considering how slick it was with blood. Webby’s stomach clenched looking at it. Della was alive, but she wouldn’t be venturing out for a while on her own. FOWL had made its point.  
  
“Back to McDuck Manor,” Donald said, subdued.  
  
“Is she going to be okay? Are you sure I shouldn’t take her to the hospital?” Launchpad pressed.  
  
“We should probably go to the hospital,” Violet agreed.  
  
“Fine,” Donald said, albeit reluctantly. “We’ll go to the hospital first.”  
  
He looked over at his unconscious sister and muttered, “You couldn’t have told me what happened before it hit the fan, Della?”  
  
While Webby sympathized with Della’s plight, she found herself agreeing with Donald. She shouldn’t have kept it to herself for so long. They were all at risk now. She didn’t blame Della, per se; it wasn’t her fault when she’d been missing for so long. Supposing that FOWL had been rooted out in that time was almost a reasonable supposition. Almost.  
  
She sighed, resting her head back against the seat. She was not looking forward to telling Dewey about this.

* * *

  
  
“So, there’s a traitor in McDuck Industries,” Scrooge said. He was pacing Della’s hospital room. Della was conscious and irritated, mostly because she’d needed stitches on her leg and she’d been sentenced to bed rest or wheelchair activity until it healed. She wasn’t allowed to use her mechanical leg until then. As a result, the older female kept volunteering to do things only to be shot down. She was restless; Lena got the impression that she didn’t like being helpless. She knew the feeling.  
  
“Yes,” Della said. She reached for her water pitcher, and Donald brought it closer. She glowered at him, and he glared back.  
  
“And ye couldnae have told me this earlier?” Scrooge snapped. “Before ye went up in the Spear?”  
  
“That guy was the only one I knew about!” Della protested. “I thought he was it!”  
  
“We have to assume that FOWL’s been there for a long time, way before the Spear of Selene was built,” Huey said. Launchpad had brought the triplets over and Dewey was fussing over his mom. Lena rolled her eyes. Dewey was such a mama’s boy. Then again, she guessed if she’d had any parental figures she’d cared about, she might’ve been worried about them too.  
  
A hollow ache filled her chest where her heart should’ve been, where Magica’s amulet was instead. She was made of magic, and sometimes, the claim felt so empty. She wished she’d been hatched the normal way.  
  
“So, we need to look at your oldest employees,” Louie said. “The ones who’ve been there since you were working with Mrs. B.”  
  
“The only ones who come to mind are my accountants,” Scrooge said, shaking his head. “I donnae think it was them.”  
  
“They might know something, though,” Huey said.  
  
“It’d have to be someone unimportant, someone easily overlooked,” Webby said. “Someone you wouldn’t think twice about, like a janitor. Oh, but a janitor wouldn’t have had access to the plans for the Spear.”  
  
“He could’ve,” Louie said and everyone stared at him. “What? Hear me out. Maybe he didn’t have access to the final plans, but he could’ve had access to everything up to that point if it wasn’t shredded or deleted. If you had it on paper and threw it out, all he’d need to do is go through the trash. With the amount of stuff McDuck Industries throws away each day, who would notice a little bit of garbage disappearing?”  
  
“I hate to admit it, but I agree,” Huey said. “McDuck Industries does produce a lot of garbage as any industry would. And you were drawing out the plans on paper, weren’t you, Uncle Scrooge?”  
  
“Aye, but someone was in charge of shredding the plans,” Scrooge said, shaking his head. “I donnae think anyone would’ve left them lying about.”  
  
He looked uncomfortable, however, in a way that told Lena he was lying. Scrooge never did well when he was cornered. Lena glanced over at Webby, whose beak had clenched tight. She put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder (if that was what they were now--she hadn’t exactly wanted to quantify it considering all the crap that they’d been going through lately). Webby hadn’t told her, precisely, about the last crash of the Sunchaser, but when she’d thought Lena was dead, she’d talked to herself in her room holding the friendship bracelet about the incident. So Lena well knew what Scrooge was capable of when he felt like he was in a tight spot.  
  
Scrooge Asshole McDuck. Her beak twitched, suppressing a smile. It was one thing she and Magica could probably agree on.  
  
“Okay, but imagine that they did,” Louie pressed. “Imagine that someone either didn’t do their job or was reporting back to FOWL and wanted you out of the way. You were a freelance operative for SHUSH, right? So you were providing them money.”  
  
“Not that much,” Scrooge scoffed. “A drop in the bucket.”  
  
“For you, maybe,” Lena said. “A hell of a lot to someone else.”  
  
“But if they were only after the information about the Spear, then why stay on?” Scrooge argued.  
  
“Because if they left after the Spear, it’d look suspicious. And if they left after Webby’s parents died, it’d also look suspicious. And maybe by then they were used to being a double agent and liked it,” Louie said. “But that doesn’t explain why Webby’s being targeted now.”  
  
He turned to her. “You weren’t poking around in old FOWL stuff, were you?”  
  
Webby shook her head and then faltered. “I might’ve been. I don’t remember what happened the afternoon I killed that operative. My mind is just a huge blank.”  
  
“Great,” Louie muttered. “We have two mysteries on our hands. One, whatever Webby was doing that led to FOWL attacking her and two, whoever’s working in FOWL and McDuck Industries.”  
  
“At least we can safely say why Webby’s parents were killed,” Violet commented. “They must’ve been onto the traitor.”  
  
“But they didn’t leave anything behind,” Webby said, frustrated. “No one even saw their bodies until years later.”  
  
“There are no clues? Nothing?” Violet asked, frowning.  
  
“Nothing that I know about,” Webby said, shaking her head. “And if they told Granny anything, she didn’t tell me.”  
  
“No offense, Webs, but your grandmother is like Fort Knox,” Lena scoffed. “If she knows anything, she’s playing it close to the vest.”  
  
“Someone in McDuck Industries, who’s also working for FOWL, has a secret worth killing over,” Huey remarked quietly. “And not just once or twice, but enough that they’re willing to throw other people under the bus to save themselves or at least draw attention away from them.”  
  
“Who else had access to the labs’ equipment and materials besides Gyro during the Spear of Selene’s construction?” Huey asked.  
  
“Hmm…” Scrooge frowned, scratching his temple with his cane. “Besides Gyro...Professor Waddlemeyer, but it cannae be him--”  
  
“Why not?” Lena interjected.  
  
“Because Taurus Bulba killed him six years ago,” Webby said in a hush. “That’s Gosalyn’s grandfather.”  
  
“They could’ve been undercover,” Lena pointed out. She folded her arms across her chest. “I mean, it’s not like they’d announce who they were.”  
  
“I’ll start pulling records,” Scrooge said, grimacing. “I donnae suppose you want to help me, Webby?”  
  
She nodded and glanced over at Della. “Are you sure you don’t know anything else about a FOWL plot within McDuck Industries?”  
  
“Positive,” Della replied, flinching at the pain in her leg. She upped her morphine and sighed as it entered her bloodstream. “I swear it didn’t hurt this much when I amputated it.”  
  
“We’ll pull the records and go from there,” Huey said and kissed his mother on the cheek. “You should rest, Mom.”  
  
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she grumped. “I can go through the records too since I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
“In the meanwhile, I’ll go talk to Gyro after I’ve brought you the records,” Scrooge said and grimaced. “I donnae think he knows anything, but it donnae hurt to ask.”  
  
“Better you than me,” Della grumbled. “I still haven’t forgiven him for writing in the Spear of Selene owner’s manual that it’s “so easy, even Della can do it”. Or for the horrible black licorice Oxy-Chew.”  
  
“Ew,” Lena said. “Who likes black licorice?”  
  
“My point exactly,” Della huffed.  
  
“Right,” Scrooge said. “We have our tasks. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

  
  
With the DT-87 down for “repairs”, Scrooge needed a replacement system configured by the only people within the labs that he trusted, which brought it down to Manny, Lil Bulb, Gyro, and Fenton. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the magically reanimated horse or the sometimes evil light bulb, but he trusted Fenton and Gyro. Once he’d appraised Fenton of the situation, the man had promised him he’d have something for him soon. Scrooge smiled.  
  
Gyro...Gyro would require delicacy, not because he suspected him of treachery because he didn’t, but because he’d be offended he’d missed something that egregious. He found Gyro hunched over blueprints for another device and muttering to Lil Bulb as he went. It looked like a giant robot, a modification of the device that had gone crazy years ago.  
  
“Gyro--got a sec?” he said and Gyro bolted upright, shooting furtive glances all around. Scrooge wondered what he’d done that he didn’t want Scrooge to know about. Then he remembered he’d warned Gyro about showing Lil Bulb the new inventions when he couldn’t be sure how the invention would react. That was the least of his concerns right now.  
  
“Oh--of course, Mister McDuck,” he said. “What can I help you with?”  
  
“I need to speak with ye about the Spear of Selene.”  
  
Gyro flinched. “You mean the rocket Della stole and that stranded her on the moon for ten years?”  
  
“Are there any other Spears I should know about?” Scrooge asked, arching his eyebrows at his chief scientist. “Some new information has come to light about the Spear.”  
  
As he said this, he glanced at the security cameras, which turned off. He’d put Donald and Huey in charge of those, which meant that hopefully, no one was listening in. Or, if they were, that he’d put them on notice. Scrooge didn’t know which one he preferred.  
  
“Della says that the Spear was sabotaged by FOWL and she took it ‘fore I had a chance to end up taking it for a test run.”  
  
Gyro shook his head. “That’s impossible. No one but me saw the final blueprints.”  
  
“But what about the ones in between? The first drafts?” Scrooge pressed.  
  
Gyro blanched and Scrooge grimaced. It was never a good sign when he took Gyro by surprise. Normally, the rooster was calm under pressure. At least, until said pressure mounted beyond his ability to control it.  
  
“It’s possible,” Gyro allowed. “It’s possible that my intern back then didn’t shred the documents as I told him and they ended up in the waste bin. They should’ve been incinerated, though.”  
  
“If they weren’t? Is Della telling the truth?”  
  
“I...I don’t know,” Gyro admitted. “I mean, she could be telling the truth to save face, but as much as I don’t like her, I don’t think she’d do that. And if she were trying to cover herself, she’d have said something years ago.”  
  
He met Scrooge’s gaze. “No one should’ve had access to the Spear’s blueprints besides me and my intern. But if they did, it’s possible that it could’ve been secreted out to FOWL. I’m not saying that it’s likely. I mean, I put together the owner’s manual for the Spear myself. I did all the finishing touches on the Spear. For someone to have slipped something in there that I didn’t notice…”  
  
He cringed.  
  
“But it could happen?” Scrooge pressed.  
  
Gyro dropped his gaze. “Yes.”  
  
“Do ye know what happened to yer last intern?” he asked and Gyro shook his head.  
  
“I mean, it’s not like he died or anything, as far as I know…” Gyro said and the words trailed off as realization dawned on him. “So you’re saying either my intern was working for FOWL or stumbled upon what they did and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time?”  
  
“Aye, that’s exactly what I’m saying. There’s a FOWL traitor in our midst and the Vanderquacks were close to finding them when FOWL struck. If Della found one agent, then there must’ve been more.”  
  
Gyro looked profoundly unhappy at the revelation. “I’ll look into it right away, Mr. McDuck.”  
  
“Don’t take it personally, lad,” Scrooge said, putting a hand on Gyro’s shoulder. “Ye cannae have known what would’ve happened.”  
  
“Yes, I should have,” he replied, frowning and not meeting his gaze. “I trust Fenton but there was something about his predecessor that I didn’t like. And I should’ve trusted my instincts.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Clearly, the warning that FOWL had delivered hadn’t hit home. As a result, the agent watched through binoculars as Violet Sabrewing entered her house. Unlike McDuck Manor, there wasn’t even a hint of security. This would be child’s play.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down and gets real.

Violet Sabrewing wasn’t home. Presumably, someone had forewarned her, but they had neglected to warn her family. The FOWL member briefly considered letting the matter slide. Violet would’ve been the message, not her family. However, he couldn’t let such insolence go unanswered. Webby needed to be rebuked.  
  
When he was done, he threw away the gloves and his now stained outfit. It was up to Webby to react and see what her decisions had cost her. Once he got his hands on Violet, he’d repeat the message, just in case she hadn’t understood it well enough the first time. The man smiled. Some people were just slow learners.

* * *

  
  
Lena, Webby, and Violet were walking toward Violet’s house, which was a small suburban two-story in a middle-class neighborhood. Lena was holding Webby’s hand, because she could, and because Webby’s heartbeat was fluttering against her palm. They rounded the corner to the cul-de-sac where Violet lived when the sight of police cars, lights flashing, and yellow crime scene tape stopped them. Webby broke away from the group, Violet and Lena trailing her.  
  
Lena reached for her amulet, an old nervous habit that did her no good now that the amulet was inside of her. It didn’t seem to matter, anyway. None of the girls got very far before M’ma Cabrera halted them. Her gaze swept the trio and landed softly on Violet. Lena’s throat tightened. The sympathetic gaze the older duck gave the sabrewing was not encouraging.  
  
“I can’t let you go in there, bambina,” M’ma said.  
  
“What happened to my parents? My little brother?” Violet asked and her voice trembled. Lena knew damn well what had happened to them but didn’t want to speak it, as if speaking it aloud would make it real. Lena reached for Violet’s hand and Violet snatched hers away. Lena wasn’t sure whether she was irritated or hurt at the rejection.  
  
M’ma Cabrera shook her head. “You don’t need to see it.”  
  
“I demand to know what happened,” Violet said and her tone was at odds with her words. Her voice was weak, tremulous, and her tail feathers quivered. Webby put a hand on Violet’s shoulder and Violet jerked away. Perturbed, Webby glanced at Lena, whose eyes narrowed. Well, it looked like it wasn’t only her. Violet was rebuffing everyone.  
  
“We’re still piecing that together,” M’ma said. “Why don’t you go to McDuck Manor with Webby and Lena?”  
  
Violet’s lower beak quivered. “I need to know.”  
  
“FOWL,” Webby said, her voice equally low, but also distraught. “FOWL happened to your family.”  
  
Violet spun her head around to look at Webby. “What? That is preposterous.”  
  
“They threatened you and you weren’t around, so…” Webby stopped and Lena knew her stomach was lurching. She rushed to steady the younger girl and although Webby allowed it, her gaze was unfocused. Lena had a dreadful suspicion that Webby was seeing the picture of her parents rather than the scene before her. She shook her gently.  
  
“Pink. Pink, come back to us.”  
  
“My family is perfectly fine,” Violet said in a high-pitched voice. “Right, Officer Cabrera?”  
  
M’ma Cabrera looked pained. “I’m afraid Webby is right.”  
  
“She is not,” Violet insisted. The dawning horror on her face told a different story. Her fists balled and she shook her head back and forth. “Webbigail is wrong. My family is safe. My family is fine. Nothing happened here. Nothing at all.”  
  
“Look, I’m all for thinking positive, Vi,” Lena started (even though she wasn’t, not really--she just wanted to keep Violet from biting Webby’s head off) and Violet whirled on her.  
  
“Don’t you start on me,” Violet shot back. “If I do not accept it, it is not real. Therefore, it can be ignored. There is no incontrovertible evidence here.”  
  
Three ambulances pulled up, but their lights were off, as were their sirens. Dread pooled in Lena’s stomach, growing as three figures, draped in white with their faces covered, were loaded onto three different ambulances. One of the forms, Lena noted as bile rose in her throat, was dreadfully small. Webby’s lower beak quivered too.  
  
“I didn’t want you to find out this way…” M’ma Cabrera said.  
  
Lena swallowed hard. She didn’t know if there was any way to salvage this. Violet looked lost, like a child abandoned, which in a sense she had been. She revolved on the spot, taking in the ambulances without their urgency, the two-floor house blocked off with crime scene tape, and then Webby. Tears pooled in Violet’s eyes and she rubbed at them to keep them from overflowing.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Violet…” Webby whispered though the words seemed insubstantial. She reached for the other girl and something in Violet broke. Without warning, she dashed underneath the crime tape and for the house, the blue-painted front door wide open. Webby rushed after her only for M’ma Cabrera to step in her way. Webby hesitated, her desire to appease authority stronger than her compulsion to follow her friend. Besides, she didn’t really want to see what was in there. She already knew.  
  
A cop caught Violet before she entered the house and carried her, squirming, back behind the crime scene tape. The male mallard looked stoic, perhaps more concerned about Violet ruining the crime scene than about her mental state right now. Violet continued struggling until she was placed back on the asphalt, whereupon she panted, eyes wide and sounding dangerously close to hyperventilating.  
  
“I’m so sorry, bambino, but we can’t let you in there,” M’ma Cabrera said softly. “It’s not suitable for you.”  
  
Lena stared at Violet and wondered how she’d react. The girl seemed unpredictable, especially in the face of this tragedy. This followed a twisted logic, which Violet could probably see, and Violet was always one for reason in the face of strangeness. The reasoning here, however, was not something that any of them was comfortable with.  
  
Violet’s friendship with Webby had done this. The truth of that shone in Webby’s face too and she stood rooted to the spot, whispering, “I’m sorry” repeatedly. If it made Violet feel any better, which Lena doubted, Webby seemed to have gone on auto-pilot. The shock had riveted her and Lena tugged on her wrist.  
  
“Come on, pink. We need to talk to Mr. Moneybags,” she said.  
  
“They are not dead,” Violet said and Lena stared at her in turn. “I did not see their bodies, therefore, they are still alive.”  
  
“That’s not how that works, Violet…” Lena said, wincing.  
  
“Of course it is,” Violet responded, staring ahead of her without seeing to see either of them. “Absence of proof is proof.”  
  
“Uh, absence of proof doesn’t mean anything,” Lena said, nonplussed. “It just means you have no evidence. As I said, we need to get back to McDuck Manor and talk to Scrooge about this.”  
  
Neither girl was moving. They both stood there, utterly shell-shocked. Lena wasn’t sure why she wasn’t; perhaps it came from being attached to an evil bitch for fifteen years. You learned to anticipate dark moods and compulsions. In a way, Lena had seen this coming. She had hoped it wouldn’t, but she’d expected it, regardless.  
  
“You guys, we can’t just stand there. We have to go,” Lena pressed.  
  
“Give them a few minutes,” M’ma Cabrera said, putting a hand on Lena’s shoulder. Lena wasn’t happy about it, but she couldn’t exactly tell the police chief to screw off. After all, despite Lena’s earlier disdain for authority, she wasn’t that feckless. Besides, she was more worried about Webby and Violet than she was vexed at the sudden and unwanted touch.  
  
“The others are surprised, but you aren’t,” M’ma said in a quiet voice, drawing Lena away from the other girls. “Why?”  
  
“FOWL threatened Violet. She wasn’t reachable, so…” Lena shrugged and felt uncomfortable doing that. She almost felt like she was implicating herself, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to do with this. Even her Aunt Magica, queen bee that she was, had nothing to do with this. It was no one anyone knew, which was part of the problem. If they could figure out who the traitor was at McDuck Industries, they could stop this. Lena swallowed back more bile.  
  
Lena found herself divulging the rest, trying to keep the more personal stuff to herself. She gave the police chief an outline of what had transpired and as she spoke, M’ma Cabrera’s eyes narrowed. She’d been very careful not to tell her about Webby killing someone and had instead avoided mentioning that whole afternoon. She was lying by omission, but she had years of practice. It was almost sad how easily it came to her.  
  
“I wasn’t hatched yesterday,” M’ma Cabrera said, frowning. “We will discuss later what you’re keeping from me.”  
  
Lena bristled and caught herself before she mouthed off. She was more worried about Webby and Violet than she was herself, which could be dangerous. M’ma Cabrera squeezed her shoulder, noticing her gaze travel back toward the house. Lena’s throat was tight.  
  
“My officers will keep them from seeing the worst of it,” the police chief reassured her.  
  
“A little late, don’t you think?” Lena said quietly. “The cat’s already way out of the bag.”  
  
“I’ve always hated that expression,” M’ma Cabrera said and shook her head, but whether it was at Lena’s turn of phrase or in general, she didn’t know and she didn’t ask.  
  
“I’ll drive you three back to McDuck Manor,” she promised.  
  
Lena nodded, feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare and the air moved about her like molasses. She remembered the time she’d shared dreams with Webby and Violet and wished for that level of innocence again. Then again, Lena had never been truly innocent. (Thanks, “Aunt” Magica). Fortunately, the police chief left Lena to brood while she fetched the girls.  
  
Webby walked like one in a daze and Violet was blathering on about how if she could see the house, she could tell everyone what was really going on. With anyone else, it might’ve sounded condescending. To Lena’s ears, Violet sounded desperate. They were ushered to the cop car and Lena’s beak quirked.  
  
“What is it?” Webby asked and Lena was surprised she’d even noticed her girlfriend’s expression change.  
  
“It’s nice not to be arrested and riding in the back of a police car,” Lena remarked, a wry smile on her beak.  
  
“You were arrested?!” Violet and Webby exclaimed in unison and Lena, despite the situation, or perhaps because of the tension in it, burst out laughing.  
  
“You guys are so innocent. It’s cute,” Lena informed them.  
  
“What on earth were you doing that led to you getting arrested?” Violet demanded.  
  
“There was the time I shoplifted…” Lena mused. There’d also been the time she’d been caught drinking and smoking pot, but they didn’t need to know about that. It wouldn’t impress this lot and she’d kept it to herself for that reason. She was ashamed of it now, after the fact, but during the fact, it’d been a good way to get Magica to leave her alone. Not that it’d helped, in the end. Having a hangover with Magica bitching her out was the worst thing ever.  
  
“You haven’t done that recently, have you?” Webby asked, frowning.  
  
“This was years ago, pink.”  
  
“Hmm,” was all M’ma Cabrera said as she pulled away from the house. Violet turned and stared through the small windows as it diminished in the distance. The police car seats were far less comfortable than they looked on TV. For one thing, they were hard plastic and the backseat itself was narrow. For another, there was a hole in the bottom of the floor, presumably where people were handcuffed. Lena didn’t know; she might’ve been arrested, but she’d never been restrained.  
  
The backseat windows were likewise small and barred, as well as the divider between “passenger” and officer. This was not an experience Lena had wanted to revisit. It was worse now with Violet whispering to herself about how illogical this all was and how she demanded they return to the house. The police chief was ignoring her.  
  
More troubling still was Webby’s blank expression. Lena was afraid to interfere with whatever was running through her mind, but she also feared that if left to fester, it’d get much worse.  
  
They lapsed into silence, even Violet. Lena didn’t need to hear Webby’s thoughts to know what was going on. They hadn’t found the traitor and this time, Violet had paid the price for her association with Webby. Her whole family was gone and Webby was blaming herself. Lena reached for Webby’s hand and squeezed it.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly to her. “We’ll find the culprit and we’ll make them pay. I promise.”  
  
Webby’s gaze sharpened when it fell upon her, but, more troubling still, she stared for a moment before shrugging and looking back out the window. Cop cars weren’t designed for three people in the backseat, which meant it was squished and hard as rock back here.  
  
“Webs…” Lena whispered, nudging her. “I know I’m not usually the happy-go-lucky one here, but someone has to be.”  
  
Webby’s voice was low, almost inaudible. “My parents died and I got Violet’s family killed. It’s not going to be okay. This is my fault.”  
  
She curled up, trying her best to get away from Lena despite there being no room to do so. Lena’s heart wrenched. She yearned to pull Webby into her arms and cradle her close, though she sensed the other girl wanted nothing to do with her right now. Violet was still mumbling, likewise curled away from Lena. Lena’s heart sank.  
  
This was going to be a long ride at this rate.  
  
“This is not your fault, chica,” M’ma Cabrera said. Lena jerked, surprised she’d heard Webby.  
  
“It is the fault of those loathsome criminals that are part of FOWL. Do not blame yourself. You are a good person.”  
  
Webby nodded, balling her fists. Lena could tell she didn’t believe her.  
  
“We will find who’s behind this,” M’ma promised. “They won’t get away with it.”  
  
Webby nodded again.  _But they already have._  
  
“The justice system is slow and sometimes it does not work as it should, but it does work. I have to believe that and so do you,” the police chief continued.  
  
When they finally arrived at the gates and were waved through, M’ma stopped before the front door and, putting it in park, turned around. She moved the little screen door between the front and back and looked at Webby directly.  
  
“We will find them. I promise.”  
  
Again, that nod that meant nothing. Lena’s heart ached. Unable to stop herself, she reached out for Webby again. Though this time Webby was unresisting, she was also like a statue in Lena’s arms. Lena’s heart broke for her.  
  
It broke for Violet too, but nowhere near as strongly. While Lena and Violet were friends, it was nothing compared to the sheer depth of her feelings for Webby. She would have done anything for Webby if she asked. Webby was the first person who had believed she could be more than a puppet for Magica. She was the first person who looked beyond her “purpose”. To see Webby this distraught was killing her.  
  
“You will keep an eye on them, won’t you?” M’ma Cabrera asked Lena and Lena nodded. She went to lean over Webby to open the door only to remember that, of course, cop cars didn’t have handles on the inside. M’ma Cabrera opened the doors and let them out.  
  
“Come on, pink. Let’s go talk to Uncle Scrooge,” Lena said as the police chief pulled away.  
  
Webby remained rooted to the spot.  
  
“Webby?” Lena ventured.  
  
“I’m going to get you both killed…” Webby whispered. Her lower beak quivered and tears filled her eyes.  
  
“We’re tougher than that,” Lena said. “And they won’t catch us by surprise.”  
  
She half expected Violet to take umbrage at that, but she didn’t. Violet had retreated inside herself and for her sake, Lena hoped it was more pleasant than reality. She suspected it wasn’t.  
  
“We’ll stick by you, pink,” Lena vowed. “Come hell or high water. We won’t let them push us around.”  
  
She knelt a little, as Webby remained shorter than her, and kissed her on the beak. Webby didn’t respond at first and then she reciprocated with gusto, wrapping her arms around Lena’s neck and pulling her girlfriend in closer. She was still crying and it gave the moment gravitas as if at any second, things could change.  
  
“Hey, guys?” Dewey said, opening the door and startling the girls. He raised his eyebrows at them. “Am I interrupting something?”  
  
Webby wiped her face. “No.”  
  
“Yes,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. “What is it, blue?”  
  
“Uncle Scrooge thinks he might’ve found something,” Dewey said and stared at them. Lena offered Dewey a very weak smile that he didn’t return.  
  
“Um, what happened?” he asked, eyes riveted to Violet.  
  
“We’ll explain once we get to Uncle Scrooge’s office,” Lena promised.

* * *

  
  
Webby wanted to bolt and she wanted to fidget, though she managed to suppress the urge just barely. She was twitchy, though, and she could feel Lena’s concern, as well as Scrooge once Lena explained what had happened. Violet was mired in rumination, Webby’s throat had constricted and she didn’t trust herself to speak, which left Lena. The FOWL’s operative’s words kept looping in Webby’s mind.  
  
Lena could be next. Lena meant the world to her and if she lost her again, she didn’t know what she’d do. Could you kill someone made of magic? At least, the mundane way? She didn’t want to find out. Memories of Magica destroying Lena’s shadow body filled her mind and tears welled in her eyes. She clenched her eyes shut.  
  
“Pink, I’m not going anywhere,” Lena soothed.  
  
“None of us are going anywhere,” Scrooge added.  
  
“You died once,” Webby said in a choked voice.  
  
“I didn’t die,” Lena said and winced. “I was stuck in the shadow realm for three months. No big deal. I mean, it was peaceful compared to having Aunt Magica on my back.”  
  
She forced a smile to make Webby feel better. If anything, it made her feel worse. She couldn’t meet her girlfriend’s gaze.  
  
“Why do you still call her that?” Violet asked, breaking her silence and startling them. “She is not biologically related to you. If you wanted to be specific, you could state that she is your progenitor. Your mother, if you wanted.”  
  
“Because having her as my mother is worlds better than having her as my aunt,” Lena muttered.  
  
“We cannae help who we are related to, lass,” Scrooge said and stroked Lena’s hair. Lena smiled, this time more genuine.  
  
“Dewey said you were close to a breakthrough,” Lena said. The boy in question had darted out of the room earlier but seemed to be returning soon, judging by the thudding footsteps outside the door. He might’ve gone to see Launchpad, who was worried about Darkwing after the encounter in SHUSH labs.  
  
“I dinnae said that…” Scrooge demurred. He pointed to the security cameras and then to a laptop that someone, probably Gyro, had hooked up for him.  
  
“I’ve been going through the files,” Scrooge said. “Other than the head of the Board, we couldnae find anyone who has been here long.”  
  
“It can’t be them,” Webby said.  
  
“Why not?” Lena retorted. “Vultures are carrion birds. Even if they’re Vultures compared to vultures, that doesn’t change their nature.”  
  
“They also refused to answer my questions,” Scrooge said. “Even if they are not involved directly, their avoidance is suspect.”  
  
Dewey burst into the room and then shut the door behind him. Webby looked at him with a dull expression. If Della died, it’d be her fault. She’d take Dewey’s mother away from him again. Her throat was tight and she lowered her gaze.  
  
“Webby, it’s not your fault,” Dewey said and took a chair, dragged it to the right of Webby, and sat down beside her. Lena was on her left and Violet on the end.  
  
“I did find something else curious,” Scrooge said. “We had a janitor who was also in charge of our security system. He originally programmed the DT-87, as well as the robot, and his defenses were what Mark Beaks destroyed when he became Super Beaks.”  
  
“Lemme guess—he’s missing?” Lena suggested sarcastically.  
  
“Er...yes,” Scrooge admitted, sheepish.  
  
“How long has he been missing?” Webby asked though she wasn’t sure the answer mattered.  
  
“For the last day and a half,” he said. “The last time he was seen, it was around town.”  
  
At this, his gaze slid to Violet and then back to Webby. Lena grimaced. So he’d been seen near Violet’s house, then. That didn’t help, not if he’d been missing. Then again, none of them knew how Violet’s family had died since M’ma Cabrera hadn’t told them.  
  
“So? Let’s find him!” Dewey said.  
  
“It’s not that simple, lad,” Scrooge said. “And it’s highly possible this is a red herring, meant to distract us from the real villain.”  
  
Webby swallowed hard. She felt the noose tightening around them. “Then who’s the real villain?”  
  
“I cannae say for certain,” Scrooge said. “I have suspicions, but I want to wait.”  
  
“Until what?” Lena burst out, exasperated. “Until someone else is hurt?”  
  
She flinched when Violet cringed.  
  
“Sorry, Vi.  
  
“Until he makes a mistake,” Scrooge said. “I used to have a mechanic before Launchpad named Titus Wadly. He was a minor crook named Mac the Mechanic, but something of an idiot savant. He might’ve been a stooge for FOWL, but that means that FOWL still needs a mastermind behind the scenes.”  
  
“What about Gyro’s ex-intern?” Webby asked.  
  
“He’s gone underground,” Scrooge said and scowled.  
  
“Where are all of these people hiding?” Dewey huffed.  
  
Unbidden, Webby’s eyes slid to Lena. “You used to live on the outskirts of town.”  
  
“Webs, I don’t know all of the criminals in town. Aunt Magica also kept me from anyone truly dangerous.”  
  
“They could have gone into St. Canard,” Dewey said. “Crime suddenly shot up there. That’s what Launchpad told me. And crime has always been bad.”  
  
“Then it looks like we’re headed into St. Canard,” Scrooge said. He glanced at Webby. “I cannae tell you not to come along. Ye would be safer with me, all of ye, than staying here in the manor at this point.”  
  
Lena nodded and then glanced over at Violet, who was shivering violently. Lena got up and hugged Violet tightly. Violet hugged her back and gasped back a sob.  
  
“Maybe Violet should stay here…” Dewey said slowly.  
  
Violet shook her head. She was coming along. After all, she was a target too. She had nothing left to lose. Webby knew she was thinking that; she wished she wouldn’t. It seemed like her friends were nothing if not loyal, even if she didn’t deserve it.  
  
“No,” Violet managed when she could speak. “I am not staying behind.”  
  
“Then...allons-y…” Scrooge said, sounding more like the 10th Doctor in Doctor Who than his normal self. He was also sans any real enthusiasm, but considering the circumstances, she couldn’t blame him.  
  
“Maybe Granny should come too,” Webby said.  
  
“That might not be such a bad idea,” Scrooge replied.  
  
And so...an hour later, they were all piled in the car, with Launchpad driving, and headed into St. Canard. It was considerably less cramped than the police car had been, but Webby’s panic had kicked up into higher gear. Violet was rifling through a book similar to the JWG, except for magic, and Lena was trying magic when Scrooge wasn’t looking. Dewey sat on Lena’s other side and glanced at all three girls from time to time. He was antsy, shifting about in his seat. She could relate.  
  
The first thing Webby noticed was that there were police everywhere. If the police presence in Duckburg had been alarming, this was suffocating. She knew Darkwing had to be bridling at the sheer amount, which seemed to suggest he couldn’t do his job. Then again, there were too many criminals at bay to allow one person the leeway without help.  
  
Launchpad brought them to Darkwing’s house first and Gosalyn darted out of the house to meet them. She hugged Violet; though they knew Gosalyn, it wasn’t that well since they lived in two different towns. Violet didn’t hug her back and Webby wondered when the shell-shocked feeling would vanish and true horror would set in. Would that be the minute that Violet repudiated her? She couldn’t keep being her friend. Anyone with any sense would back away while they still could.  
  
“The kids should stay here,” Drake Mallard said.  
  
“No,” Scrooge said. “The kids are better off with me than on their own.”  
  
“No offense, but you’re not exactly a superhero,” Drake pointed out.  
  
“And ye’re barely one,” Scrooge countered.  
  
“I’m better than Gizmoduck,” Drake snapped and then sighed. “I don’t want Gosalyn in danger…”  
  
“Please,” Gosalyn scoffed. “I laugh in the face of danger.”  
  
“I know,” Drake said. “That’s why you gave me your report card.”  
  
“That bad, huh?” Lena asked.  
  
“Just a few Cs…” Gosalyn scoffed.  
  
“You’re a bright kid. You shouldn’t be getting Cs. Or D’s, for that matter,” Drake reprimanded. “All right. Let me get ready and we’ll be ready to go.”  
  
“It won’t be as bad as SHUSH HQ, will it?” Gosalyn asked and Drake and Launchpad shuddered.  
  
“God, I hope not,” Drake muttered as he disappeared into the house.  
  
They were quiet as they waited for Darkwing to re-emerge. The tension was acute and Webby gnawed the inside of her cheek. She wished she knew how to make this right. She wished she could go back in time and protect her friend before things reached the breaking point. And she wished she was certain she could keep FOWL from hurting Lena, Violet, and Della.  
  
They set off, also silent, and Webby’s heart hammered between her ribs. She told herself that of course, they could handle anything that was about to be thrown their way.  
  
Lena didn’t know St. Canard at all, which was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because there was nothing to trigger memories of Magica riding her and a curse because they had no idea where to start. The criminals could be anywhere and everywhere. It was like looking for a needle in a giant haystack. If only they had a clue where to start.  
  
“Hmm…” Gosalyn mused. She was dressed as Quiverwing. “If I were an evil traitor with designs on torturing people, where would I hide out in a crime-ridden den of iniquity?”  
  
“You don’t have an abandoned warehouse district, do you?” Lena asked, half-joking.  
  
“Well...yeah...St. Canard kinda does,” Launchpad said, scratching the back of his neck as if embarrassed to admit it. “They’ve always meant to tear it down, but they’ve never gotten the money.”  
  
“Or someone keeps buying up the lots,” Darkwing muttered. “We might as well start there.”  
  
“Be on guard for anything,” Webby warned. “Absolutely anything.”  
  
Lena’s chest glowed and she readied her magical power. Webby derived no comfort from it. She was still wondering whether it was possible to murder someone made of magic by a gun instead of Magica’s staff, which was technically inside of Lena now.  
  
“Chin up, pink. We’re getting closer,” Lena said and then hugged her tightly.  
  
“Doesn’t that mean the danger’s getting greater?” Dewey commented.  
  
“This could get...dangerous,” Darkwing Duck said and grinned. “But luckily, Danger is my middle name.”  
  
“I thought it was Vainglorious,” Gosalyn opined.  
  
“Quiet, you,” Darkwing scoffed.  
  
The abandoned warehouse district covered a lot of territories. This could take a while.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like there will only be a few more chapters of this fic. Sorry, guys. And I know I need to update more. -_-

Lena almost wished that her aunt was involved in this because it’d at least give her something to pin down. While the warehouses were strange, dark, and musky, they contained no magic she could cotton onto. She was out of her element here. That wouldn’t have bothered her as much if she weren’t jittery for another reason--Violet and Webby were both holding it together by a hair. Violet startled at any sudden noises and Webby looked ready to kill someone if given provocation. Or even if not. 

 

Lena wondered, not for the first time, what it was Webby had stumbled upon that had led to this situation. What could her parents have discovered that someone was willing to kill to keep a secret? How deep did the corruption within McDuck Industries go? These weren’t questions she could ask and anyway, she didn’t want to unsettle anyone any more than they already were. Therefore, she kept her thoughts to herself.

 

They had split up, which sounded like the beginning of every horror movie ever. She, Violet, and Webby had teamed up with Scrooge. Darkwing, Launchpad, and Gosalyn were another team. Fearing that the boys might be next on SHUSH’s list, Scrooge had insisted that the triplets stay with their mother in a secure location. Aside from Louie, none of them had been too chipper about that. They all wanted to help (again, except for Louie who was convinced he’d end up getting hurt). 

 

The girls used their cell phones to provide lights and thus far, they had explored two empty, cavernous warehouses. They were approaching their third warehouse when Lena felt the feathers on the back of her neck prick. They were being watched. That wasn’t creepy at all.

 

Webby nodded, a silent affirmation that she felt it too. Violet, however, was laser-focused on exploring the new warehouse and had gone inside without waiting for the others. The thought occurred to Webby simultaneously and they burst into the warehouse to discover...nothing. Just Violet standing there, peering around with her camera flash. Lena wanted to bang her head into a wall. 

 

Tonight, at this rate, would be fruitless. She didn’t know what she’d expected to come out of it, but anything would’ve been better than this drudgery. Lena swallowed past a hard lump in her throat. She reached for Webby’s hand and Webby snatched it away. Lena swallowed again. Webby was apprehensive, she told herself. It meant nothing.

 

This particular warehouse had two floors and their steps echoed as they traversed the dusty floors. It looked like this had been a manufacturing warehouse and Lena glimpsed covered machines, long fallen into disrepair. The air was heavy here and dust motes danced in the air. The sensation of being watched grew stronger. 

 

Lena let the other three move ahead of her. If she’d had her amulet on the outside, she would have clutched it in her hands and sought out the person or persons stalking them. She couldn’t do that. Besides, if they were mundane, she probably wouldn’t be able to pin them down. 

 

No, she couldn’t find them, but they had proven time and time again that they could find her. And Della. And Webby. And Violet’s family. Lena gritted her teeth and cursed inwardly. It was like these people were determined to ruin everything good about Webby’s life.

 

This time, the feeling of eyes upon them had intensified, she felt a slight pinch, and Lena’s feet stuck to the floor. Alarm shot through her; she remembered “Aunt” Magica pinning her to the floorboards until she capitulated and threw away Webby’s friendship bracelet. She also remembered Magica possessing her and paralyzing her limbs. If someone wanted to frighten her, that was a good way to do it. 

 

She opened her beak, but no sound came out. Memories of being huddled over, panting for breath, struggling to regain control over her body, coursed through her. The others were almost out of earshot now. They might leave her behind. Cold sweat trickled down her back. 

 

_ Please, no. Don’t leave me here. Please. _

 

“Lena?” Webby called, turning around. Lena fell over. None of her limbs were responding and she wondered if she could die; if it was possible that her lungs would stop working. She didn’t have a heart--that was the amulet powering her--but she was pretty sure she had lungs. Right now, she struggled to draw breath.

 

“Lena!” 

 

Webby darted back toward her and Violet yanked her back. Scrooge swore (what passed for swearing for him, anyway). Lena’s eyelids grew heavy. She was going to die, wasn’t she? She was going to die and for what? She hadn’t even lived that long. She’d spent most of her life under Magica’s sway. She’d barely had any time with Webby…

 

It was a paralytic. She’d been shot with a paralytic agent and even if she couldn’t die...she might not necessarily be alive for much longer either…

 

“What have you done to her?” Webby demanded harshly. She might be propping her up, but Lena couldn’t feel it. If she could have cried, she would have. This was torture worse than even Magica could devise. 

 

“Only what was necessary,” a male voice intoned. “Hello, Webbigail Vanderquack. Violet Sabrewing. And...well, this is a surprise. Scrooge McDuck.”

 

The male laughed and Lena let it accompany her down, down, down…

 

* * *

 

Darkwing Duck wasn’t having much luck with the warehouses either. He was about to call Scrooge and see if his luck had been any better when a figure moved out of the corner of his eye. He saw a flash of yellow and black. Darkwing knew those colors. He knew the way that body moved, so similar to his own.

 

“My old foe,” Negaduck sneered. “Darkwing Dreck.”

 

He clapped his hands and floodlights temporarily blinded them. He heard Gosalyn scream and whirled, feeling a gun press against his temple. Blinking away the brightness, he felt Negaduck’s breath on his feathers. The villain had thrown an arm about his shoulders.

 

“Not so fast,” Negaduck said. “The party’s just getting started. Isn’t that right, fellows?”

 

Negaduck leered. “And we wouldn’t want to miss the opening act. I hear it’s a real doozy.”

 

He nodded almost imperceptibly to someone behind him and figures emerged from out of the shadows. Launchpad, Gosalyn, and Darkwing formed a circle, backs to each other, to prevent someone from getting the jump on them. However, Darkwing didn’t get a chance to move very far. Negaduck yanked him back and the cold gun barrel pressed tighter into his temples. Sweat trickled down Darkwing’s face and neck.

 

“Where are your manners?” Negaduck said. “Second-rate actor, third-rate superhero. Maybe we should’ve gone after Gizmoduck.”

 

The last he whispered harshly and Darkwing stiffened, hissing from a clenched beak.

 

“I’m better than Gizmoduck,” he snapped.

 

“Darkwing!” Gosalyn cried, distracting him from thoughts of his petty rivalry with Gizmoduck. He leaped forward, determined to rescue her, but Negaduck produced a second gun and pointed both of them at his head. A loud click told him that Negaduck had primed the trigger. Negaduck wasn’t screwing around, but, then again, when did he ever?

 

“Let go of me! I have to get to Gosalyn!” Darkwing said, heedless of the guns now trained on him. 

 

Negaduck laughed sadistically and Darkwing yelped when he heard Launchpad cry out in pain too. The lights were still too blinding to see what was going on and by the sounds of it, things were not going well for our intrepid heroes. Darkwing yearned to join the fight and change the odds, but he couldn’t move. Negaduck was seconds away from pulling the trigger and he didn’t doubt that the supervillain could do it. Negaduck seldom bluffed.

 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Negaduck said and then spun him around, pressing a gun barrel into the small of his back. “March, Darkwing Dork.”

 

“It’d be easier to march if I could see where I was going,” Darkwing offered and received a cuff to the head for his smart-aleck remark. He couldn’t be sure what was going on with the others now that they were walking away. Sounds echoed strangely here and things that ought to have been crystal clear sounded muffled, like they were in a tunnel. Darkwing sensed Negaduck’s attention drifting from him for a few seconds and seized the initiative.

 

He sprang into action (without the accompanying “sproing!” noise--he could sometimes act in self-preservation) and pivoted away. Negaduck snarled and Darkwing aimed a kick at where Negaduck ought to be standing. The problem was he was half-blinded and his vision still hadn’t returned. White-hot pain rushed down his right leg and Darkwing crumpled, howling and clutching it.

 

“I warned you,” Negaduck said coldly. “Now I’m going to have to drag you.”

 

He surveyed the hero dispassionately. “Huh. Came close to nicking the femoral artery. Oh well. Better luck next time.”

 

Yanking Darkwing to his feet, he dragged him along. Darkwing was incapable of walking with the bullet lodged near his knee and every step produced agony. His vision flickered in and out, narrowing to a single white dot and then expanding out again, like a badly tuned antenna. His right leg was dead weight, not supporting his weight and bleeding profusely. 

 

He thought he discerned Gosalyn crying out for him and stiffened his resolve. Forcing himself to put weight on his right leg, he made a break for it. Alas, he didn’t get far. Negaduck kicked his right knee and Darkwing collapsed, hissing and then screaming in pain. He wasn’t above pleading for mercy...if it had been anyone else. However, there was no point in bleeding for mercy from Negaduck. The cruel man had none to give.

 

“This is what you get for meddling in SHUSH affairs,” Negaduck informed him. “You, Launchpad, Gosalyn, and  _ especially  _ Webbigail Vanderquack. We’re just the cavalry. The real fun’s with the others. But we’re just getting warmed up.”

 

The only good thing about this, if he had to search for a silver lining, was that every once in awhile, the pain grew so intense that he blacked out. It was when he returned to consciousness that it was unremitting agony. He had no idea where Negaduck was taking him and he was too weak to fight him. He only had Negaduck’s word that he hadn’t nicked his femoral artery; Darkwing was woozy and couldn’t think too far ahead, much less press a hand to his leg to see where the wound was. If he’d hit near his kneecap, then maybe he’d gotten to the artery. It was impossible to tell in the darkness while he slipped in and out.

 

Negaduck was rambling on about how this was all Webby’s fault for poking her beak where it didn’t belong. Darkwing wasn’t following the monologue and didn’t really care, anyway. While he knew Webby tangentially, his concern rested with Gosalyn and Launchpad, especially Gosalyn. Gosalyn was his little girl and he was failing her. He couldn’t trust Negaduck not to harm her, especially if she got in his way. As for Launchpad, while he hoped he could handle things, he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could. And he could barely think at all, so the point was moot.

 

Still, if he was in this much trouble, what did it say about the others? 

 

* * *

 

Webby cradled Lena to her chest. The shadow girl’s chest no longer rose and fell, which would’ve been freaking her out if she could afford it. However, she’d forced herself into a battle mind-frame, which meant there was no time to worry about the consequences of other people’s actions, not unless it affected her directly. It was a cruel mindset, perhaps, but it was necessary. She would worry about Lena later when she could afford it.

 

“Where are you?” Webby demanded, scanning the shadows. “Show yourself.”

 

“I see you took almost all the players out of the game except for Lena de Spell,” the male continued. “Did you think that ensured their safety? We can still strike when we want, where we want.”

 

“Show. Yourself.,” Webby growled. “I’m sick of playing games.”

 

“Ah, but without games, how would we have gotten to know each other so well?”

 

Webby was at the end of her proverbial rope. Violet’s family had died because of FOWL. Lena might be dead or close to it because of them. They had threatened her family and friends. She was done screwing around. She wanted answers. Now.

 

Webby gently laid Lena down on the floor and Violet kept her from hitting her head. Webby threw a knife into the darkness where she thought the voice emanated from. It was a feint, designed to bring him out of hiding. They stood in the darkness and she moved toward the man’s voice as he sneered at her for thinking she could hit him. Her chest was tight. She wasn’t bothered by what had happened, she told herself. She wasn’t upset. 

 

_ Lena...Violet’s family...Della...everyone I care about getting hurt in the cross-fire… _

 

If he turned out to be a voice in the darkness emanating from a speaker, she was going to be incensed. She pivoted, threw herself around, and landed on something soft and feathery. In the mood she was in, she was considering slashing his throat first and asking questions later. Of course, it was very hard to interrogate a corpse, which stayed her hand. For now.

 

Her hesitation did her no good. The man flung her off and she bounced back off a stack of crates, lunging with her knife and catching him beneath the beak. His beak, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, was long and curved, rather like a vulture’s. Yet his strength suggested he was younger than the only vultures she’d ever encountered, Uncle Scrooge’s accountants. Could he be related?

 

Gunshot echoed and a bullet singed her feathers. Hissing, she dropped down into a defensive crouch and slashed out with her knife, catching it on the edge of his clothes and digging into the fabric of what she assumed was a cloak. 

 

“Why did you go after Della?” she demanded. “And are you the one who killed my parents?”

 

She had no idea what Violet and Scrooge were doing with Lena and she compartmentalized that so she didn’t have to think about it. Instead, she brandished her knife and, now that her eyes had fully adjusted, took stock of her foe.

 

He was taller than her, with the curved beak and feathery mane typical of vultures. He did indeed wear a cape, which looked ridiculous with his long, sweeping wings. Wings that also doubled as arms, unlike hers. The gun clattered to the floor and her opponent smiled. It was the smile of a carrion bird and it sent chills down her spine.

 

“I’m a little young for that, don’t you think?” the man replied, sneering at her. “But you could say it’s all in the family. Much like your parents. And Della Duck.”

 

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and she shifted, ready to tackle the next threat. Whatever it was didn’t approach them, not yet. She had one knife left with which to fight, plus her body, which was its own formidable weapon.

 

“You’re probably wondering how deep this goes,” the man retorted as they circled each other. “You want to know the secret your parents died for.”

 

He dashed, faster than her eye could track, and she moved out of the way with seconds to spare. He brushed his beak against her cheek. She could feel his breath and he seemed exhilarated, thrilled by the chase. Her heart pounded.

 

“My dear little Webbigail,” he whispered. “This goes all the way to the  _ top _ .”

 

With that said, he whirled on her and jabbed an elbow into her stomach. She kicked in retaliation, snapping his head back. The kick and jab had landed at the same time and they both stepped back, panting. Her knife was at her hip and she could retrieve it, but on second thought, there had already been so much bloodshed. Why did there need to be more?

 

“Who do you think would have had access to  _ The Spear of Selene _ ’s blueprints? Who would have had reason to call off the search for Della Duck? Who would have blown your parents’ cover rather than let the truth come out? Think about it,” he sneered. They resumed circling each other and Webby waited for the pain in her abdomen to subside enough to think. He’d struck her in a place she’d previously been injured, which meant it hurt more than it ought to have, but the stitches had been removed. She had healed, as much as was possible in the interim.

 

“And who would know the weakest connections to Scrooge McDuck that, once pruned away, would make him that much more ruthless, that much more cunning? That much more determined to make money?” he continued.

 

He advanced on her and she held her ground.

 

“Family has always been so cumbersome, wouldn’t you agree? All they do is  _ hold you back _ .”

 

With that, he dove at her, aiming his beak down to peck out her eyes (or so she assumed). She let him think he was about to score a hit and then moved at the last split second, shoving a wooden box underneath his beak to catch it. While he struggled to extricate himself, the figure she had spotted moving in the background made itself known.

 

Scrooge McDuck slammed his cane down on the vulture’s head not once, not twice, but three times, drubbing him until he was certain that the vulture was unconscious. He looked at Webby.

 

“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked.

 

More shadows moved and she swallowed past a lump in her throat.

 

“Mr. McDuck?” she said quietly. “I don’t think he was working alone.”

 

Surrounding them as if they were dying animals in the desert, vultures appeared everywhere. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness and Webby was suddenly unable to thrust aside her fears and concerns. Fear overwhelmed her. Somehow, without knowing where the villain had been, they’d walked straight into a trap. And where were the others?

 

Shit. If this was happening here, then what might be happening elsewhere?

 

* * *

 

 

They had moved from McDuck Manor to the Money Bin, which was the safest place in town, after all. That didn’t improve Della’s mood. She was still wheelchair-bound, which brought back to mind her helpless days immediately after the crash when she’d still been constructing the leg out of parts from her rocketship. Dewey was fussing over her while Huey and Louie figured out logistics in terms of needing to protect themselves.

 

Mrs. Beakley and Donald had likewise separated to converse. She had wanted to go with her granddaughter, but Scrooge had thought that it was all too likely she’d end up injured attempting to protect her. True, Mrs. Beakley hadn’t liked to hear that, but it was the truth. None of them were as young as they used to be.

 

They hadn’t told anyone where they’d gone. They still didn’t know who the traitor was and until they did, it seemed imprudent to go blurting out their plans. Gizmoduck knew, as well as Gyro (and Manny and Lil Bulb), but her uncle trusted them. Della did too, even if she hated Gyro. They weren’t about to blab. The other employees, however, were a giant question mark.

 

“So, what? We just sit here and go through personnel files until we find the most likely subject?” Della groused. They were sitting in Scrooge’s office with folders in boxes. Of course, McDuck Industries hadn’t bothered to digitize their paperwork. Della would’ve been peeved at that if she weren’t too busy resenting her gimpy leg.

 

Normally, stuff like this didn’t bother her. She was more than the sum of her parts and, in a way, the robotic leg was a badge of honor. She’d survived crash-landing on the moon and she’d returned to her boys. Della Duck was a fighter; that was why it was ridiculous she was stuck in this godforsaken wheelchair. But no one would let her  _ do  _ anything.

 

No one was paying any attention to her, either. Della pulled out her cell phone, which was one of the newer Face ID ones she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. She was dreadful when it came to selfies and hadn’t mastered front-face cameras. She doubted she ever would. The phone unlocked and a news alert popped up. 

 

“Hey, guys,” Della called and then, seeing as no one was listening, she cleared her throat and yelled it. “Guys!”

 

“What is it, Mom?” Dewey asked and the others turned in her direction. Della waved the phone and Huey plucked it from her fingertips. 

 

“The house is on fire,” Della and Huey said in unison. 

 

Sure enough, the newscaster, who was on mute, was talking about someone having set a fire at McDuck Manor. Right now, the police thought it might be faulty wiring, perhaps due to an errant switch on the alarm system. That could’ve been them, trapped in there. Della’s heart thudded.

 

“The house is on fire and Mr. McDuck is not answering his cell phone,” Mrs. Beakley said. “I certainly hope we’re not the cavalry.”

 

“Would be kinda cool if we were, though,” Dewey said and jumped through the air, performing moves she’d seen Webby do, albeit with more skill on her honorary daughter’s part. Still, she was impressed Dewey was that agile. She’d have been that agile too if it hadn’t been for her stupid leg.

 

“I can handle myself in a fight,” Della said at Mrs. Beakley’s disapproving look. “Normally.”

 

“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out what happens in our current situation,” she said and then grimaced. “But if I don’t hear back from him or Webby soon...we’re going out there.”

 

“We can’t leave our family in danger,” Donald agreed. “These ducks don’t back down.”

 

Della smiled. “Damn right we don’t.”

 

“Be that as it may,” Mrs. Beakley said, shaking off a memory that Della was not privy to, “perhaps we ought to contact Gizmoduck now. Because I’m giving the others five minutes. If I don’t hear from them by then, we’re going. Come hell or high water.”

 

“Or…” Della said as the picture on her screen switched from McDuck Manor to the warehouses in St. Canard. One of them was flooding, as the reporter stood outside stated. 

 

“Both.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Now that they’re out of the way, we should see about getting paid,” Negaduck said and smirked. “All’s well that ends well, as long as I get my ninety percent cut.”

 

“Ninety percent?” Megavolt whined. “That’s not fair. We did all of the work.”

 

Negaduck revved a chainsaw. “And I’m a hundred percent the brains of this operation. Any more stupid questions?”

 

“No, no, I think we’re good,” Megavolt said hastily. 

 

“Good,” Negaduck said and stepped away from the three hogtied heroes that were on a conveyor belt headed for the chopping block. “Then let’s go.”

 

“Shouldn’t we stay to make sure they’re dead?” Quackerjack asked.

 

“They’ll be dead,” Negaduck said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not concerned.”

 

He smiled maliciously. “Darkwing Dork will never be able to fight his way out.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter. Not proofread (I almost never catch errors until after I read over what I wrote), so if there are any errors, it's because I was rushing this out.

 

Webby didn’t know where to put Lena to keep her out of the way. However, right now, she had a bigger problem. Water was slowly rising and the vultures continued attacking. At a loss, she jumped up to a high shelf, placed Lena atop it, and then stood, ready to face her opponents. They were also attacking Scrooge and she could feel her phone vibrate in her pocket. Whoever it was, they had to know now was not the time. 

 

Violet was holding her own, which was remarkable considering she had no training. Webby shot her an appreciative glance before fending off another blow. There were too many. She counted at least five to their three (since Lena didn’t count right now). It was a pain, too, because she could’ve used her girlfriend’s magical abilities. 

 

She needed a way to get the upper hand. Time with Louie had taught her to size up the angles and the ways things could go wrong. The water was now up to her ankles and she sought its source. Why would they flood the warehouse unless they had an escape plan? They wouldn’t. She just needed to figure out what that was.

 

_ Think faster, Webbigail _ , she chastised herself. She scanned her surroundings, again and again, coming up with nothing and desperation clawing at her chest. Lena’s amulet was off-limits, seeing as it was inside of her. Webby had her friendship bracelet and she and Violet could enact spells, but that wouldn’t be sufficient without concentration and time, neither of which they had.

 

Of her surroundings, she spied a low window, near to the shelf where she had placed Lena. Of course, scrambling out that way would not only leave her vulnerable to attack, but it would also mean abandoning her friends and family. Her phone vibrated again, irritating her, and she answered, knocking away her opponents and hoping she had the chance to breathe for five minutes.

 

“Yes?” she growled. “I’m in the middle of something.”

 

“Do you need our help?” Dewey asked.

 

There wasn’t time to think about his question and where it was coming from. Her grandmother was in the manor and they ought to be safe. There was no ostensible reason for him to be volunteering unless...no. She didn’t have time to dedicate to that thought either.

 

“Yes,” she bit out. They could use all the help they were going to get.

 

A blade knocked the phone away from her head and nicked her cheek. Hissing, she rounded on the culprit and picked up the knife. Before he had a chance to retaliate or punish her for scooping down, she slashed at his face savagely. It was kill or be killed again and she had no intention of letting someone get the best of her. This was what she’d trained with her grandmother for. This was what her whole life had been leading up to. Like hell was she going to turn around and let the other person win, especially not with the stakes so high.

 

Perhaps her adversary would have had a pithy comment, such as “am I boring you?”, but her slash had caught him off guard. She followed it up with a roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling and thrust the knife into his neck. Blood gurgled and coated her hands and body, soaking into her feathers. A figure tore her off her dying opponent and then punched her in the face. Webby, not expecting the attack, winced and then kicked out, catching a glancing blow on her opponent’s arm. It wasn’t enough to slow him down. It wasn’t even enough to deter another attack. 

 

Her opponent kicked her in the back and then pinned her to the floor. With the water rising, she sputtered and the foot in her back rose to kick her head in, holding it underwater. Spots appeared before her eyes and she held her breath, knowing that to do otherwise would be to get this grimy, disgusting flood water into her nose and mouth. It was hard to keep herself from inhaling.

 

The weight on her head lessened and she was able to turn around. Scrooge had walloped the vulture about the head and neck, distracting him and permitting her to take a deep breath while lying on her back in the water. It wasn’t high enough to float in, not yet, but it was disturbingly high, nonetheless.

 

Pushing herself to her feet, she kicked the vulture in the chest and sent him flying backward in time for Scrooge to knock him off his feet. Four years had passed since she’d started adventuring with Scrooge and his family. The old man was no less spry for it. He fought like a man one-third of his age.

 

With two down, she rounded on the other three. One of them had Violet cornered and the water was now to their knees. Webby snarled, retrieving her new knife, and distracted the vulture from Violet long enough for Violet to scurry off and come up with another mode of attack. The vulture engaged Webby and when he or she swept their arm out to knock Webby off her feet, she jumped up, avoided it, and kicked them in the head. Sending the vulture toppling, she resisted the temptation to hold their face down in the water and watch them sputter. She was supposed to be a good person. Revenge was not the hallmark of a light-sider.

 

Instead, she took the knife and slashed the vulture’s throat. Perhaps the bloodbath was more than it needed to be, but if she left them unconscious and not dead, they could still stir given time and pursue them again. It was ruthless, but she’d learned from her grandmother that it might be best.

 

In the warehouse, she glanced about her to see her phone floating on the water. There remained two more vultures. She needed one alive for questioning.

 

She had no idea how much time had passed since Dewey had called her and the fights that had ensued. Time was nebulous in a fight and could stretch forever or seem too short by contrast. What she did know was that when bright flashlights lit the area, she was temporarily blinded and hissed, shielding her eyes.

 

“I told you not to use those,” her grandmother snapped. Once Webby could see, she determined that the odds were in their favor. There were two assailants and with Dewey, Della, Mrs. Beakley, and Donald, they stood a good chance of stopping them in their tracks. That might have explained why the two assailants bolted for the exits as fast as possible.

 

“I don’t think so,” her grandmother said curtly and threw a couple of devices that knocked them off their feet. Della wheeled in and then, growling, hopped out of her wheelchair with a crutch. 

 

“I told ye to stay where it was safe!” Scrooge snapped at Della.

 

“I thought about that,” Della said. “And then I decided against it. My kids need me.”

 

“Ye donnae know what you’re signing up for!” Scrooge objected.

 

“I know enough,” Della countered. 

 

“Mom...the water…” Dewey said. The water was rising now, reaching their waists. Though the two assailants were down, they weren’t out. Her grandmother retrieved them and Webby grabbed Lena, who still wasn’t breathing. Her chest was tight.

 

“Uh, what happened to the other guys?” Dewey asked.

 

“Curse me kilts,” Scrooge muttered. “Do we need to mount another rescue?”

 

“Why don’t we hear what these two villains have to say first?” Mrs. Beakley suggested. She nudged one of them with her foot. They had found higher ground, but they needed to leave quickly. Webby wasn’t sure how long it was going to take the floodwaters to rise and whether they’d stop if they did. Something had to be pumping the water in but from where?

 

“Liquidator…” Dewey said and Webby shot a glance at him.

 

“No, listen, hear me out,” Dewey said. “Who else has control over water but Liquidator?”

 

“I thought Liquidator was just in Darkwing Duck’s TV show,” Mrs. Beakley protested.

 

“If Negaduck can be real, why not him?” Dewey shot back.

 

Della swayed and then growled, righting herself. She glared at everyone as if daring them to help prop her up. She was an independent woman, damn it, and she didn’t need help. Webby admired her, even though she wished that she could risk fewer people. Dewey moved closer to Webby, took her hand, and squeezed it. 

 

“Hey,” he murmured. “We’ll finally get to find out the truth, won’t we?” 

 

“Assuming the roof doesn’t come down on us,” Webby whispered back. She wouldn’t put that past the villains. Her heart pounded. Finally, the truth after all of these years. They’d need to escape first, but then, she could discover what her parents had died for and how deep the corruption within McDuck Industries really went.

 

They scrambled to leave before the waters rose too much higher, though they were almost swimming by the time they exited. The floodwaters dumped them in a whoosh of dirty water onto the ground and Webby picked detritus out of her hair. Lena remained in her arms and Scrooge frowned, eyes narrowing. He was about to order Della to take Lena and go, except he saw the problem as soon as Webby did. Without her wheelchair, Della wasn’t hauling anyone else along in a hurry.

 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Beakley had found ropes to bind the two vultures. Like the floodwaters, the ropes also reeked. The whole scene had a surreal quality like they were waiting to unmask the villains in a Scooby-Doo episode. Webby’s heart thudded. The only good thing about being dumped by the floodwaters was that the blood had washed off her clothes, except for what had clung to her feathers. Her feathers were no longer their normal pristine white and she resisted the urge to preen herself to fix it.

 

“What did you shoot Lena with?” Webby demanded as the vultures woke up. “Who are you? What do you have to do with my parents? What did you do to the  _ Spear of Selene _ ? Start talking!”

 

She pounded a fist into her palm and waited. She might have asked too many questions, come to think of it. That was their problem, however. She had all the time in the world to wait for their answers. Or, at least, she thought she had, until she heard the screams.

 

* * *

 

 

Darkwing regained consciousness to find himself tied to a steel girder and watching helplessly as Launchpad and Gosalyn headed for a giant buzzsaw. He was still woozy, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He was glad about that, or, rather, he would be if he weren’t so worried about his little girl and sidekick. Darkwing assessed the situation.

 

Negaduck was crooning about his victory and the pay-out for keeping him occupied. For once, this might’ve been a time for Gizmoduck to make his appearance known. Not that Darkwing would ever admit that, because Gizmoduck was so annoying, especially when he was right. But right now, Darkwing was in need of rescuing. 

 

He noticed that all of the Fearsome Five were preoccupied with Negaduck’s boasting and he wriggled within the ropes. They were slack--whoever had tied him up hadn’t thought they needed to secure him. Maybe they thought he’d bleed out first. Well, that was a cheery thought.

 

Unfortunately, wriggling had reopened the wound and it had already soaked his disguise. He gritted his teeth against crying out and alerting them to his movements. The ropes came free and he fell flat on his face. His previous squirming hadn’t caught their attention, but slamming facefirst onto the floor certainly did. Also, ow, fuck, this floor was cement. Who had said that was a good idea?

 

“Looks like our prisoner has something to say about this,” Negaduck sneered. The buzzsaw hadn’t started yet and Megavolt was toying with the lever. Darkwing pushed himself to his feet, swayed, and assumed a fighting stance. He knew from long experience that he could take a lot of abuse, perhaps more than the average duck could. Okay, definitely more than the average duck.

 

“I thought you’d bleed out,” Negaduck sneered. “We couldn’t be so lucky.”

 

“Let go of them right now,” Darkwing demanded.

 

“Or what?” Negaduck rejoined. “You’ll whine some more? I honestly don’t care if they live or die, but they’re in my way. And if you’re in my way, you’d better either get the hell out or perish.”

 

This was the wrong time to think of the internet meme--” then perish” and he laughed anyway. Just because it was the wrong time didn’t mean his brain would cooperate.

 

“What?” Negaduck snapped, unaccustomed to someone laughing in his face. “I’m serious.”

 

Darkwing leaned casually forward and knocked Negaduck onto the conveyor belt that Megavolt had so helpfully turned on. Gosalyn and Launchpad yelped, crying out for Darkwing. He jumped over to save them, all the while aware that the speed could increase on the belt at any moment. Like himself, Gosalyn and Launchpad had been tied loosely, a sloppy job in all from the Fearsome Five. Then again, they weren’t their primary concern. Webby was and whatever kickbacks they were getting for keeping Darkwing, LP, and Gosalyn occupied.

 

Negaduck scrambled off and Darkwing grabbed the ropes that had bound the others. He might not have been a Junior Woodchuck, but he did know how to tie a bow-hitch that Huey Duck might not have groused about. He scrambled, binding Negaduck up before the other duck had a chance to fend him off.

 

“Stop the machine! Stop the machine!” Negaduck shouted. “Idiots!”

 

Darkwing helped Launchpad and Gosalyn off. Launchpad swayed and Darkwing saw caked blood on the back of his head. He wanted to fuss over it, but he didn’t. Now was not the time. Instead, his gaze went to Gosalyn. Aside from being pissed off about the whole situation, Gosalyn looked fine.

 

“What about Darkwing?” Megavolt protested.

 

“Do something about him too!” Negaduck commanded. “Do I have to do everything around here?”

 

Gosalyn dove out of the way of Liquidator, who had been busy with something, Darkwing wasn’t sure what. Rancid smelling water, brown and filled with detritus, puddled on the floor in places. Liquidator was shuddering.

 

“Hate floodwaters? Try bathing in freshwater! Floods--they’re good for what ails you if what ails you is life!” Liquidator trilled. Darkwing didn’t have time to look after Gos. Quackerjack had set his toy teeth after him.

 

Jumping about and managing a rather neat pirouette that no one saw, Darkwing sidestepped all of the chattering teeth. Bushroot came up from behind and punched him in the head. Darkwing saw stars and he was leaving a blood trail everywhere. Goddamn it, was he seriously going to have to call Gizmoduck in on this? That would be so embarrassing.

 

Gosalyn yelped and Darkwing turned, more concerned about her than himself. He dashed off, swaying a bit from the multiple contusions. As he did, he stumbled and tripped over his own feet, in time for Bushroot and Megavolt to slam into each other. That’d been lucky. He scrambled out, looking up as Negaduck menaced Gosalyn with a chainsaw.

 

“Aw, c’mon, that was nowhere near me,” Gosalyn boasted. Only someone familiar with her could hear the tremor in her voice. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

 

“Gosalyn! Don’t antagonize the supervillain!” Darkwing snapped.

 

“Pfft, it’s like he’s not even trying to murder me,” Gosalyn shot back. Darkwing groaned, facepalming. 

 

“I’ll show you murder!” Negaduck roared, revving the chainsaw and lunging forward. Gosalyn dove out of the way; as Negaduck grew angrier, his movements were less coordinated and he wasn’t thinking about tactics. As a result, he stepped too close to the conveyor belt again (Darkwing could now see the little gnaw marks from Quackerjack’s teeth on the rope he’d tied Negaduck with--that explained how he’d gotten out, at least). He hopped on top of the conveyor belt, threw back his head, and laughed.

 

“I’ll give you a show!” Negaduck crooned.

 

“Hey! Stop ignoring us! I’m hurt!” Quackerjack said and belted Darkwing across the face. That would teach him to ignore the others.

 

“It’s like he doesn’t even want to play with us anymore!” Megavolt whined. 

 

Liquidator was nowhere to be seen, though Darkwing could hear him grousing about having gotten floodwater in his body. He might be busy for a while.

 

“And I brought all my favorite toys!” Quackerjack continued.

 

Darkwing’s cape was being pulled by clattering teeth. “Hey! Hands off the merchandise! I just ironed that cape!”

 

Megavolt shot electricity at Darkwing and Launchpad tackled him about the legs. 

 

“Hey! Nice shot!” Darkwing called. 

 

Launchpad stumbled off, his avenging sidekick too befuddled to know what he was doing. 

 

“...or that could’ve been a lucky shot,” Darkwing muttered. He sprang to his feet and threw off the chattering teeth. 

 

“I am the terror that flaps in the night!” Darkwing started. It was a bit late for his intro, but if people could demand attention here, so could he. He jumped atop the conveyor belt. “I am the--”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the cash driver in the EZ-Pass only lane, we get it,” Negaduck groaned.

 

He stepped forward and got his chainsaw stuck in the belt. “Hey!”

 

Gosalyn yelped, this time because one of Quackerjack’s toy soldiers had shot at her. “Holy shit, no wonder those things didn’t sell.”

 

“Language, young lady!” Darkwing said.

 

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” Gosalyn said flatly. “Do you really expect me to watch my mouth?”

 

“As soon as we get home, I’m washing your mouth out with soap,” he retorted.

 

“You first. Where do you think I learned it from?” she rejoined.

 

The warehouse doors opened and Darkwing turned to spy Mrs. Beakley, Scrooge McDuck, Dewey Duck, and Webby Vanderquack silhouetted in the door frame. Now it was almost even odds. Darkwing smiled. They could win this.

 

“Oh, crap, they could win this,” Megavolt complained.

 

“There’s always Plan B,” Quackerjack retorted.

 

“And that is…?” Megavolt said.

 

“Run away!” Bushroot called and the three villains, grabbing a complaining Liquidator along the way, skedaddled.

 

“You idiots can’t leave me here!” Negaduck screamed, yanking on the chainsaw, which was stuck fast in the belt. As he did so, Darkwing couldn’t help but notice that the buzz saw was treacherously close to his location. Should he save him? Yeah, probably. Was he going to wait until the last minute? Absolutely.

 

“I got it!” Dewey announced and rushed for the lever. The belt sped up. “...I don’t got it.”

 

“Oh, honestly,” Mrs. Beakley snapped and kicked the instrumental panel until the belt stopped. Darkwing was about to congratulate her until it went into overdrive. Negaduck remained unaware of his fate. He was too busy grappling with his chainsaw.

 

“Make way! I’m a professional!” Gizmoduck called and electrocuted the panel. The belt stopped and didn’t restart.

 

“Oh,  _ now  _ you come,” Darkwing snapped. “You couldn’t have come before when I actually needed you?”

 

“I’m sorry. There was a lot of air traffic for a Monday,” Gizmoduck said and frowned. “Mr. McDuck, did you know your house is on fire?”

 

“My  _ what _ ?!” Scrooge screeched.

 

“Then it’s a good thing we weren’t in there,” Dewey said. “Wait. Where's Huey and Louie?”

 

“That...is a good question,” Gizmoduck said. 

 

“What do ye mean, ye donnae know where the boys are?!” Scrooge snapped.

 

“Um, well, we kinda lost sight of them,” Gizmoduck admitted. “We were all holing up with Della and then we rushed over here and I swear Huey and Louie were with me.”

 

“I’m here!” Huey announced, crawling out from behind Gizmoduck’s suit. “I wouldn’t miss this!”

 

“That leaves Louie…” Scrooge said. 

 

There was an ominous silence. Scrooge said, “I donnae suppose you have him hidden away at your back?”

 

“No,” Gizmoduck said, turning his head. “I don’t.”

 

“Of course,” Huey said and facepalmed. “Louie gets captured.”

 

“We still have two of their agents, don’t we?” Dewey said.

 

“I didn’t get captured…” Louie said, staggering up toward them, and held his stomach. A wet belch erupted. “Air sick.”

 

“Well, then...let’s see what we have,” Gizmoduck announced and, as a group, they turned toward the captured spies.

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHED. I’m not entirely happy with how this came out, but I’d been planning for it for a while. Sorry, it’s not emotionally satisfying. Not all endings are. And I’m sorry for telling and not showing a bit. I don’t normally do that.

“All right,” Scrooge snapped, eyes narrowing at the captured spies. They had moved to higher ground, away from the water, which was retracting anyway as the Liquidator made good his escape. He gripped his cane tightly and through sheer force of personality, impressed upon them his will. This was the formidable Scrooge McDuck Webby had always venerated. Her childhood self might’ve been content to let him take control, albeit with her in a periphery role, but this was the biggest mystery of her life. She wasn’t going to let him run things.

 

She and, to her surprise, her grandmother, stepped forward too. Her grandmother’s eyes flashed and she placed a warm hand on Webby’s shoulder. She squeezed it.

 

The vulture nearest them laughed, throwing its head back and cackling. Webby’s hand flew to her knife and Scrooge shook his head at her. Dewey squeezed Webby’s right hand. She was trembling and her throat was tight. She needed to clear it. She needed to let the vulture and its ilk know she wasn’t afraid of them. If anything, she was an angel of vengeance.

 

“You’re blinded by your own ambition, McDuck,” the vulture spat once it had finished laughing. “Did you ever wonder why your accountants were so determined to keep Della on the moon? Family distracts. Family kept you from earning money; it drained your Money Bin. But, no, it wasn’t your accountants that were directly part of this. That would’ve been too obvious.

 

“You never pay attention to the little people, not unless they can do you a favor. For years, janitors have been interchangeable to you, haven’t they? You of all people ought to know the value of having someone in a low position. They hear things that others don’t. People don’t bother to guard their tongues against the  _ help _ . They’re nothing more than background noise if that.

 

“Of course, not everyone ignores the help. Your housekeeper’s daughter and son-in-law, for example, were very curious as to why the janitorial staff never stayed for long. They noticed that they lingered for a year or two, that’s all, and then they seemed to vanish off the face of the earth. They also wondered why Gyro’s intern, the one that had worked on the Spear, had been so neglectful as to leave the Spear’s blueprints where anyone could see.

 

“Sure, it could have been done on the computer. But you never trusted technology, did you, McDuck?” the vulture sneered. Scrooge’s only response was to tighten his grip on his cane. His eyes flashed.

 

“We didn’t have the finalized blueprints-- that only Gyro possessed and he was careful never to let them leave his sight. But we had enough to sabotage the ship. Vera Beakley noticed this and warned Della Duck.”

 

Della hissed beside Webby and Dewey reached for his mom too. Scrooge put a protective hand on Della’s back. Webby knew he regarded Della and Donald as his children in a manner of speaking. That Scrooge had managed to remain quiet this long was a testament to his patience. Then again, you don’t live 157 years without learning a thing or two about patience.

 

“The intern was, of course, ours from the start. He wasn’t terribly comfortable sabotaging the ship, so we set the janitors, you know the ones you paid no attention to, to tweak controls and cause it to be susceptible to the cosmic storm we knew was coming. It was a stroke of luck that a lightning strike brought it down, but it would have crashed anyway, regardless. We were unfortunate that it landed on the moon--we were hoping it would have burned up on re-entry to Earth.”

 

Della snarled, eyes flashing too, and pawed the ground angrily. Her boys kept her from launching herself at the vulture, which she dearly wanted to do. As one, the triplets turned their gazes upon the vulture and they glowered too. FOWL had almost cost them their mother. None of them was likely to forgive or forget.

 

“As I’ve said, the accountants weren’t directly involved, but they did have a discretionary fund. After all, the accountants are our uncles. And they’ve been funneling money out of McDuck Industries for decades now. Never enough for you to notice, just little discrepancies at times when you were too preoccupied to care. The whole affair was almost blown when Della vanished and you spent nearly every penny you had trying to bring her back.

 

“When Vera and her husband stumbled upon  _ that _ and realized what we were doing, we realized that they had grown too close to the investigation. They threatened to turn us into SHUSH and blow our cover. Oddly enough, they were fiercely loyal to  _ you _ , Scrooge McDuck, and wanted to alert you before they informed SHUSH. Naturally, we couldn’t let that happen. So they had to die.”

 

The vulture’s gaze rested upon Webby.

 

“This would have settled the matter if Webbigail Vanderquack hadn’t started poking around in the McDuck Industries’ files a few weeks ago. Someone had been careless with concealment, enough for her and your grand-nephew, Llewellyn, to notice.”

 

Webby and Louie exchanged glances.

 

“If I’m part of this, how come I don’t remember?” Louie snapped. He looked discomfited. 

 

“For the same reason that Webbigail doesn’t. It was too risky to let you walk around with that knowledge. Unfortunately, due to your closeness to Scrooge McDuck, you couldn’t be killed. That would send up red flags. Webbigail couldn’t be struck down for the same reason--she’s not family, but she’s close enough to that for someone to claim vengeance.”

 

“Why tell us all of this now?” Louie pressed. He frowned. “I mean, shouldn’t you just keep it to yourself and then erase our memories again if you have to?”

 

The vulture sneered. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s too late. By the time you leave here, all of our agents will have disengaged and you’ll never find them again.”

 

“Wanna bet?” Scrooge growled. He waved his cane threateningly at the two villains. 

 

“Was that why you sent those criminals after me? To kill me? Or to test me?” Webby pressed.

 

“A little of both,” the captive said with a shrug. “We wanted to test your mettle before we killed you. It was a game of cat and mouse.”

 

Webby growled. This was the secret her parents had died for. This was the secret  _ she  _ had almost died for. Was it true, that the villains would be able to escape McDuck Industries without punishment? It didn’t seem fair, not after everything they’d done. There had to be a way to stop them. 

 

“You’d think so,” Mrs. Beakley said coldly and the others turned to look at her. “Then it’s certainly a shame that I alerted McDuck Industries to a security breach prior to arriving here, isn’t it?”

 

The vulture, the one that had been speaking, stared at her blankly. “...what?”

 

“You seem to forget that although Mr. McDuck can be a bit of a technophobe, I am not. You also seem to forget that when you sought to ‘deal with’ Webby and Louie, you left evidence behind,” Mrs. Beakley said. “That and the capture of Darkwing Duck was enough to alert SHUSH and the DPD to your activities.”

 

“Darkwing Duck?” the vulture repeated. Webby was satisfied by the blank stare he was giving them, though it wasn’t enough to warm her heart. She was still worried about Lena and knowing how her parents had died and why hadn’t brought her the closure she’d wanted. Instead, it seemed to have reminded her of how powerless she’d been to stop the people she’d cared about from suffering. Her chest was tight.

 

“You went to such lengths to hide your involvement,” Mrs. Beakley scoffed. “Did you really think we didn’t enact countermeasures after what you did to SHUSH?”

 

Apparently, the answer was ‘no’, because now both vultures were giving them vacuous looks. Webby swallowed past a lump in her throat.

 

“You won’t catch the whole operation,” the other vulture said. 

  
“We’ll see about that,” Mrs. Beakley said. 

 

“What did you shoot Lena with?” Webby demanded. “And why did you have to kill Violet’s family?”

 

“To keep you in line,” the vulture responded, sneering. “It didn’t work. You’re just as inquisitive as your parents. That curiosity will get you killed one day, if not by us, then by someone else. FOWL already has a vested interest in your family. Remember that, child.”

 

“And SHUSH has a vested interest in my family too,” Mrs. Beakley sneered back. 

 

“As for what we shot your friend with,” the vulture said and then paused, throwing Webby a lewd glance. Despite herself, she blushed. Because of that, she felt her flush deepen as anger flooded in. How dare this person make her feel embarrassed over anything she’d done. 

 

“It mimics death,” the villain said with a shrug. “Whether she survives will be an interesting question, won’t it? After all, she’s not alive, is she? Not in the traditional way.”

 

The vulture smiled. “Win or lose, Webbigail Vanderquack, we’ll always be one step ahead of you.”

 

“No!” Della cried and, for a second, Webby didn’t know why. Then she saw foam coming out from between their beaks. They’d bitten into cyanide capsules. That was one (albeit annoying) way to prevent capture and questioning. Webby cried out in sheer frustration and glanced over at Scrooge, whose expression was dark and foreboding.

 

“We’ll get them,” he swore. “We’ll root out every last one of them. No matter what it takes. No one messes with my family and lives to tell the tale.”

 

Webby’s chest loosened a little as she glanced over at Lena and saw her chest move, albeit slightly. She was breathing again. The magic within her had to be countering the effects of the poison the vultures had injected her with. It was a shame that they had decided to kill themselves rather than be questioned. She swallowed back rage.

 

“And in the meanwhile?” Webby said through a clenched beak.

 

“And in the meanwhile,” Scrooge replied, “I’m looking for new accountants.”

 

* * *

  
  
Lena was on the mend, although she wasn’t fully back to normal, not yet. The magic had yet to fully eradicate the poison swirling around. Therefore, she was sitting up in Webby’s bed while Webby and Violet filled her in on what she’d missed. Lena’s expression darkened and looked downright stormy by the time Webby had finished.

 

“So they get away with it? That’s it?” Lena said in disbelief. 

 

“Not quite,” Violet said with a small smile, probably the largest she could muster after losing her family. “The DPD caught the Fearsome Five and arrested Mr. McDuck’s accountants. Unlike the criminals in the warehouse, they did not have cyanide capsules on them. Moreover, they were not ignorant of the actions taken on their behalf. They are in for quite a long questioning.”

 

“But still…” Lena said and glanced at Webby. “Are you okay, pink?”

 

Webby shook her head. “No. But...knowing that Gryo created a truth serum and that the accountants have nowhere to go, not to mention knowledge of what was happening beneath their beaks, helps a little.”

 

But not enough. Lena gestured for Webby to join her on the bed and she did.

 

“Sometimes, the world sucks,” Lena declared.

 

Violet joined them, putting Lena in the middle of their Team Magic sandwich.

 

“Indeed,” Violet said and looked troubled. “Mr. McDuck said I could stay here as long as I would like.”

 

“Louie’s gotta be pissed,” Lena said with a weak smile. “Another person in the will.”

 

“Louie’s...not happy, but it’s not about that,” Webby admitted. “He’s feeling guilty over stirring up the hornet’s nest and causing this all to happen in the first place.”

 

“But he rooted out a criminal conspiracy,” Violet pointed out. 

 

“And got so many people killed as a result,” Lena said.

 

Violet glanced down at the bedspread. “Yes…”

 

“For now, though, Uncle Scrooge proposed putting him in the accountants’ position, albeit in an interim spot, so that he can learn the ropes,” Webby said. “Better for it to stay in the family than hire out.”

 

“Yeah…” Lena said and shook her head. “Greed really does make the world go ‘round, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah…” Webby said and looked solemn. Lena nuzzled her and Webby curled up into her arms. 

 

“Cheer up, pink,” Lena said softly and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s not the end of the world. Not yet.”

 

“No…” Violet admitted. “But it certainly feels like it.”

 

They stared at the ceiling for a minute and said nothing. There didn’t seem to be anything  _ to  _ say. Things hadn’t ended the way any of them had wanted, but at least they were heading in the right direction, right? It could’ve been worse. Lena couldn’t think of how, offhand, but she wasn’t about to tell Webby that.

 

Instead, they laid there and didn’t speak for the longest time. For now, it was all right just to breathe without having to worry about intrusion or fighting for their lives. The rest would come later.

 


End file.
